


The Winchester Trial

by MoonSilverSprite



Series: The Law and the Paranormal [11]
Category: Law & Order: SVU, Supernatural
Genre: Courtroom Drama, Demons, Hellhounds, Law Enforcement Pursuing the Winchesters (Supernatural), POV Outsider, Police Procedural, Revenge, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:13:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonSilverSprite/pseuds/MoonSilverSprite
Summary: The boys are once again caught in New York City and face a trial for the crimes they have supposedly committed over the years. While they do have SVU helping them, they wonder if it will be enough. Especially with magic creating false allegations and with Benson torn between obeying the law and doing what's right.
Series: The Law and the Paranormal [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1520543
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been some time in the making. I do not know how many chapters I will put up or how long this will take. I have some of the story already completed, but I will put up more chapters when I feel as if they are ready.

The police cars had driven up outside the restaurant.

“What’s the problem?” an officer asked as he approached the owner of the restaurant, a Mr Papadopoulos.

“I come to open up and I find the windows broken, the tables thrown everywhere, knives in the walls – and I find all this mess.”

‘This mess’ had been three young women in the al fresco area, all torn to shreds. It was going to be difficult to make an identification, although the officer suspected that these three were the college students who had vanished two days earlier. The officer knew that SVU had been all over this.

The body of one of the waiters was found upstairs, tied to a chair with bizarre symbols written on the floor underneath him. He hadn’t been physically harmed, so a cause of death was unknown as of yet, but the officer already knew that wasn’t pretty.

The suspects, as it turned out, were found with the waiter. Both of them had been found lying on their backs, as if pushed over, unconscious. They had just started to wake up when the police found them. At present they were going to Mercy Hospital, but they had already been identified.

Dean and Sam Winchester, the supposedly deceased serial killers.

Dean glared at the arresting officer in front of him. The older Winchester was lying in a hospital bed, his hand cuffed to the rail. The two brothers had broken into the restaurant to save three missing women from being monster chow. Same old, same old. Except now the police had turned up and caught them.

A bit of a pickle, especially since the three women were semi-naked, terrified out of their wits and had been ripped by hellhounds. The brothers didn't know what had happened. They had freed the women and started the exorcism, but apparently those girls were now dead.

It had seemed a fairly straightforward case. A demon inside a waiter had abducted three college students and had tried to sacrifice them. Dean still had no idea why. But when the demon was being exorcised, the room had been filled with a brilliant blue light and both of them had slipped into unconsciousness. All that remained were specks of what looked like blue powder between their eyebrows.

Eyeing the officer, who seemed quite pleased at having caught a wanted fugitive, Dean then asked his question. “Can I have my phone call, please? I’m entitled to one. I think.”

The arresting officer gave a snort of disapproval. “And who do you want to call?”

Dean sat up straight, or as best as he could in handcuffs, “Sergeant Cragen, NYPD Special Victims Unit.”

“Retired.” The officer seemed smug.

Dean paused. Retired? Well, the guy had been rather old when they’d met. He guessed that perhaps Detective Munch would also be retired.

“Detective Olivia Benson, NYPD Special Victims Unit?” he tried.

“She’s Sergeant now,” the officer walked out of the room, “but I’ll try.”

Olivia Benson was not pleased to hear that the Winchesters were back. She thought that she had seen the last of them almost four years ago, leaving the whole department reeling in the fact that the supernatural existed.

But now she was being called at four in the morning, two days before Christmas, to hear about the brothers being caught after breaking into an abandoned building. The angel was nowhere to be seen. Or at least, the officer on the other end said it had just been the boys that were arrested.

“Hello?” she sighed, wiping her eye with one hand as she curled her fingers of her other hand around the phone.

“Hi, Sergeant Benson?” Dean.

“Yes, Dean?” she asked, “What is it now?”

“Well, Sammy and I are kind of held here for breaking and entering and a ton of other stuff that we’ve supposedly committed over the last ten years and we need some help.”

She groaned, feeling the life get sucked out of her at that moment. The last thing she needed was the supernatural latching onto her, coming inside her home with her and Noah, before wrecking her life. Olivia was in charge of a department filled with officers still focused on normal offenders. True, Fin and Rollins were still here, but she wondered what Carisi would say to this. Not to mention Barba if this was going to trial. She still had nightmares about the demon inside Munch.

Munch being scary, now that was saying something.

“Okay, I’ll get you transferred to 1PP,” she stood up and opened the cupboard to get dressed, “They’ll probably believe me when I say that you two need to be prosecuted for sexual offences.”

Dean gave a snort. “Well, just do your best, please?” He sounded desperate, if still cocky. The desperation unsettled Olivia as much as Munch with black eyes.

“Yes, Dean.” She sighed, putting on her kind but firm voice. Placing the phone down, she glanced towards Noah’s room. Looking through the open door, she could see his sleeping body. He seemed so innocent.

If anything went awry and Noah was hurt, she didn’t care if they were the cause of it; she would rip the brothers’ eyes out herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry if this chapter is short, but I have had writer's block. It's difficult when you can't get fresh air or go swimming. I'm so desperate that I would swim in Lough Neagh if I could, despite the fact I'd probably get ill from the sewage. (For you American readers, that's similar to swimming in Lake Michigan near Detroit.)

When Olivia saw the brothers in the hospital, she felt exhausted before she could even open her mouth.

She went in to see Dean first. Best to get the cockiness and the swearing over with.

“Dean,” she drew up a chair and sat down, looking him in the eye, “How did you manage this?”

Dean reeled off all that he knew about missing women and a demon. Olivia put a hand up to stop him and to her surprise it worked.

“So those girls that went missing were alive when you last saw them?”

“Yes.”

“And they weren’t supernatural creatures, or anything like that?”

“No.”

Okay, that answered one question. Not that a jury would believe them. A jury from this century, at any rate.

“Dean,” Olivia told him, “you do realize that you’re in a whole heap of trouble here? Not only does the New York Police Department think you and Sam murdered those girls –“

“We didn’t –“ Dean interjected.

“I know that, my squad will know that, but the jury won’t,” Olivia carried on, “As I was saying, not only are you the prime suspects in this triple homicide, but you’ll be extradited to St. Louis, to Colorado, to all sorts of places for crimes that you didn’t commit.”

“You don’t think I’ve been worried about that for the last ten years?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

Olivia gave a hefty sigh. “What I’m trying to tell you, Dean, is that if we’re lucky – if we’re incredibly lucky – we could get you off on the recent murders. But there are so, so many crimes that you’re connected to. They’ve got you up there with Henry Lee Lucas!”

“Didn’t he make up a bunch of stuff?” Dean asked.

Olivia didn’t have time for this so she cut right to it. “No matter what we do, Dean, if we don’t get you out of here – and I’ll be discredited for letting two serial killers get away for a second time – you’re sunk.”

Dean used his free hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose in thought. Olivia thought she heard him say something about ‘Cas being useless’. Then he looked up again and told her, “I think I might know where to get a lawyer. That’s all I can offer.”

“Okay,” Olivia pushed herself up, “I’ll try, Dean.”

But she knew that whatever she did was likely to be as effective as using salt to plant trees.

Olivia saw Sam next. He seemed a little less tired than his brother and perhaps a bit more clear-headed.

“Hello Sam,” she looked straight at him. He gave her a quick smile.

“Hello, Detective. It’s great to see you.”

“It’s Sergeant now,” she explained, “I was promoted.”

“Congratulations,” he smiled up at her.

“Listen,” she told him, “Dean said something about getting a good lawyer. Do you know what he might mean?”

Sam shrugged. “As long as he doesn’t mean me. I was hopeless last time he was on trial.”

Olivia wasn’t going to ask. “I’m trying to get the two of you locked up in 1PP instead of Rikers,” she explained, “I’m going to say that we need to question you, but we’re really just getting you away from the public. The evidence against you is already on its way from the FBI and with – I hate to say this, but with any luck – we’ll have the trial at New Year’s.”

“So I get to spend Christmas in a jail cell?” Sam asked.

“I bet you’ve had worse Christmases.” Olivia tried to cheer him up, but she didn’t know if it was working.

“I guess.” Sam sat up in his bed. Then he asked, “Do you think you could help find whatever knocked us out at the restaurant? The blue powder on our foreheads isn’t normal.”

Olivia was taken aback. “You want me to look for something that probably doesn’t even look human so that you can fight it while in jail?”

“I know it’s a long shot –“

“Sam, I can’t,” she answered him, “I have responsibilities. I have a kid now, a sweet little boy. I can’t leave him alone. And I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Well, if you had an iPad I could see if I could download the contents of all the available books in our bunker to see if it pops up there.” Sam said this so nonchalantly that Olivia had to stop for a second to take in what he had said.

“A bunker?” she asked.

“Family heirloom. Long story.” Then she swore that Sam said something like, ‘I miss Bobby.’

The younger Winchester tried his best to smile at her. “I’m certain that your squad can help us, Sergeant.”

If Olivia let them down, she didn’t know what she would do.

Later that evening, Olivia was in her office. She felt exhausted and she hadn’t even started looking for any supernatural beings yet. She’d managed to get the brothers transferred here, although what she didn’t say was that at present the two brothers were in the officers’ overnight room and not the holding cells. And she wasn’t planning on telling anyone other than Rollins and Fin.

This was a nightmare.

“Sergeant?” There was a knock on her door, “Can I come in?”

“Yes,” she called out, still flustered.

Carisi opened the door. He seemed very confused. Of course he would be, Olivia told herself, He doesn’t know that the Winchesters are innocent.

“Are these the same guys that you arrested when I was on vacation in Maine?” Carisi asked, pointing back out at the hallway.

“Yes, yes they are,” Olivia stood up, pushing her palms down on the desk as she did, “Dean and Sam Winchester.”

“What happened last time?” Carisi asked her, “Nobody told me what happened last time.”

Olivia slowly shook her head and looked down at the floor. “Carisi, I’m not sure where I can even begin to tell you.”

“How’d they get away so easily?” Carisi wanted to know. “I mean, every time they get caught, they get away. I thought you’d be able to pin them down; it’s what you do. You’re the best. But – but how’d they give you the slip?”

Olivia had now made her way over to the door. Attempting to smile at Carisi, she told him, “I’ll explain it to you if I get the time.”

Carisi called after her, but Olivia had already made her way out.

When she arrived in the overnight room, only Dean was in there. He was carving something into the metal bedstead and didn’t stop when she entered.

“Where’s Sam?” she asked, trying to make conversation but it still sounded like an order.

“Having a shower,” Dean didn’t look up from what he was doing, “And analyzing the powder.”

“Not in our labs, he isn’t,” Olivia crossed her arms.

Dean finally stopped carving protection symbols into the bed and stood up, the tiny metal wire still in his hand, twirling it in his fingers. “I, err, told him not to. He’s doing it in the parking lot.”

“The parking lot?” Olivia asked.

Dean shrugged. “Didn’t want to do it where he could be caught.”

Olivia sighed. “Okay. Have you called your lawyer yet?”

“Just about to.” Dean walked over to the payphone on the wall. “Haven’t seen one of these in years,” he muttered to himself as he took a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and started to dial.

Olivia watched him. “Who are you calling?” she asked.

“Some friends of ours might get us a lawyer,” Dean answered, dialing the number, “Down at Quantico. You heard of that, right?”

“You have friends in Quantico?” Olivia was secretly impressed and a little curious.

“Yeah,” The dial tone ended and Dean started talking. Olivia didn’t go any further. She acted the same way that she did when Munch rattled on about conspiracy theories and thought it would be better for all involved if she didn’t venture any further.

Olivia watched Dean as he began talking, only to be cut off. Then she saw him ask, “What do you mean, something’s wrong?”

Then he sighed. “No, Cas didn’t say anything.”

Another pause. Then Dean frowned and his voice rose to a shout. “What do you mean? Look, Sammy and I are in big trouble – What?” Dean ran a hand down the side of his face. “How do you know?” Then he was suddenly calmer, before he stood up straight. “We’re in a spot of bother in Manhattan. There’s some guys on our side, but we need a lawyer.”

Olivia was about to ask what the problem was when Dean snapped, “I know it’s Christmas! I don’t want to spend Christmas in prison!”

As Olivia stood beside him, Dean breathed out and then muttered, “Well if the spell lasts until New Year, that’s good enough for us; the trial’s on the first. Just – get your best, please.”

He placed the phone down and placed his head in his hands. Olivia thought she heard him let out a scream. Then he faced Olivia. “I think we’re getting a good lawyer. It’s going to be short notice, though.”

Olivia groaned inwardly. This was just getting better and better, wasn’t it?

When Olivia entered the squad room, Fin got up from his desk. “Liv?” he asked, sounding a little anxious.

“Yes, Fin?” She didn’t like where this was going.

“Well, we’ve got a lot of people at other precincts arguing about the Winchester brothers and how we let them go last time – I mean, I know the official record is that they drove into the Hudson, but there’s still a bunch of holes in that story –“

Olivia put her hand up. “Yes, Fin, I know.”

“And not only are there reporters downstairs asking questions but the phones keep ringing with people from all over the country. Some say the Winchesters are incestuous Satanists and the like but most of them are reporting about how the boys saved their lives. It’s mainly about ninety percent for the brothers to ten percent against them.”

“Okay,” Olivia let out a deep breath, “We’re getting somewhere.”

“That’s not all.” Fin told her.

“What?” Olivia asked him.

Then she heard someone call her name.

“Liv?”

She could barely believe her ears. Slowly turning around, she saw the one person she had longed to see again more than anything.

But not like this. Not under these circumstances.

“El?”

The minibus stopped in a parking lot in Hell’s Kitchen. The six young women all exited, eager to do their duty and carry on the line.

The driver, a tired-looking, middle-aged – for her species – woman moved the gear stick into park and looked back at the passenger sitting beside her.

“You sure about this?” she asked her passenger.

“Of course,” the witch replied, “You and I both want the same objective. Revenge on those boys.”

The older-looking woman pursed her lips. “Lydia was never quite the same.” They’d tried getting her to mate again two years later, this time with more success, but Lydia still ended up calling her little girl Emma. Lydia had even traveled north to Seattle, laying flowers down on her daughter’s grave in a potter’s field. The mournful Amazon, they nicknamed her, too attached to humans. Or rather, what a hunter had done to her.

The witch smiled at her partner. “I understand. They destroyed my sisters, too. But don’t worry. You can have your fun. I can simply make things worse for them. They’ll rot behind bars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely can't wait for the series to finish filming. I joked that this was proof that even God didn't want the boys to defeat God. Just a little bit of black comedy on my part. I was really disappointed that the most recent season of _Law & Order: SVU_ was cut short, but I understood why. (I never thought I would say this, but thank goodness _Criminal Minds_ had already finished.)
> 
> Anyway, most of the information surrounding the Amazons in this story is my own creation. Because the writers sure didn't expand on the lore. In this story, this particular set of Amazons grow old in seven years. This idea came from some creatures that Crusaders claimed to have encountered in the Holy Land. If I wasn't going to use this to my advantage then someone else would have done.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the chapter that I bet of you were looking forward to. The FBI file mentioned here is my story _Dean Winchester's FBI File'_.

As Olivia stared at the man she had been waiting to see again for so long, Rollins came up behind her.

“Is that –“ Rollins began and Olivia nodded.

“Yeah. That’s him.”

Another familiar face appeared in the door. Munch, a little out of breath, came in behind Elliot. “I’m sorry,” he gabbled, “he was too fast.”

Elliot was now heading across the room towards his ex-partner. Olivia’s voice was caught in her throat. She had no clue where to begin with explaining the Winchesters to anyone, let alone Elliot.

“Liv –“ he started to say, but she interrupted him.

“It’s great to see you, El.”

“Likewise,” he smiled for a split second, before he frowned again, “You’ve got the Winchesters here, that right?”

She nodded. “Yes.” Then the pit in the bottom of her stomach grew larger as she tried to explain to him.

“We’re working hard to get them a fair trial. They – they’re not as bad as you think, El. I – the whole story’s –“

“Liv,” he had his hands on his hips, confused and frustrated, “those brothers held a woman hostage in her apartment for two days while they raped and killed her. Why are you trying to get them off?”

He tilted his head, trying to look into his ex-partner’s eyes. “Liv, this isn’t how we do things. What happened to you?”

Then a horrible thought occurred to him. Fin had said that Olivia was now a mother. “Oh my God, they don’t have your kid, do they?”

“What?” Olivia finally looked up at him, “No. Noah’s fine. I can’t – I can’t tell you why they – why I’m helping them.”

“Olivia,” Elliot took a step back, both hurt and disgusted, “We’re supposed to be friends –“

“Yeah? Well why didn’t you even call me once when you left?” she barked back at him, letting the stress got to her. This was the last thing she needed right now but she was torn up and anxious and frustrated all at the same time and she didn’t know what to do except scream.

“It’s not like that –“

“Then what is? Huh? What is it, El? Because I am trying my _best_ here. To fix something that you can’t even begin to believe and you don’t know how badly I want those brothers free –“

“They’re murderers, Liv!” It seemed as if the whole squad room had eyes on them as Elliot shouted back at their Sergeant. Elliot was now furious. Not at her, Olivia knew that, but it still hurt like hell all the same.

Elliot ran a hand over his chin. “You read what they did. We read what they did, remember? Back in 2007?”

“El, please –“ She wanted him out of here.

“When – when we heard that they’d blown up a bunch of cops down in Colorado?” Elliot stared at Olivia like he didn’t even know her, “And h-how you said that if a couple of guys could do that to a station with the FBI there, what could they do up here? How it gave you nightmares, Liv?”

Fin and Munch shared a confused look. Apparently Elliot hadn’t told anyone else about that. And now he was shouting it out for anyone who would dare listen.

“Elliot!” Olivia yelled back at him, but Elliot was on a roll.

“I know I haven’t been in contact, Liv, but I do read things. How Cragen woke up with a dead hooker in his bed? How the department’s been accused of things? How you got kidnapped, Liv? Is – is that why you’re desperate to keep these sons of bitches out of jail?”

“Come on, let’s go,” Munch had come up behind Elliot but the younger man was still talking, obviously distraught.

“Did something happen?” Elliot’s voice was quieter now, as Olivia started to back away slowly, “Is that why you feel for them? Liv, that guy who took you – the guy you shot – did he do something to you? Something to – make you feel for these guys?”

“Elliot!” Munch almost shouted. Elliot took one last look at Olivia and, still hurt, turned around to walk out of the station.

Olivia put her hands over her face. Rollins immediately tried to talk and Olivia did all but push her away.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she whispered, turning away from the blonde. Placing a palm against her forehead, Olivia gave a deep sigh. She wanted the ground to swallow her up. And knowing that the supernatural existed, maybe it could.

This was going to be the worst Christmas of her life.

Munch murmured something to Fin about getting a drink if he was off shift before he followed Elliot out of the door.

None of them could see her, but the witch’s eyes had been watching the whole thing from afar. This visitor had been unexpected, but maybe, just maybe, she told herself with glee, he could be the one to set Dean Winchester on edge.

Out in the hallway Elliot felt a strange sensation ripple through him.

He felt all sorts of disgust and anger that he hadn’t had since he had last interrogated suspects. And turning his head to the interrogation room opposite, a little voice in the back of his head told him to come closer.

Dean had gone into the interrogation room after he had finished talking to Sergeant Benson. He had wanted to try and carve a Devil’s Trap into the back of the door. Just in case that demon was still around. He doubted it, though; he would have smelt sulfur.

He stepped back from the door as it started to open. Quickly placing the wire in his jacket pocket he took a good look at who had just entered.

Stabler crossed his arms. “I’m Stabler,” he cut straight to the point, “I assume Sergeant Benson has told me about me? Since you’re so chummy and all?”

Dean blinked. “Yeah, I think she mentioned something about you,” Dean scratched the back of his neck as the smug-looking officer walked closer. Dean rapidly grabbed the back of the chair. The officer’s eyes never left him.

“Take a seat,” Stabler’s voice was eerily calm, “I think we need a talk.”

Dean did so, but remained confused. “I thought Olivia – sorry, Sergeant Benson – I thought she said that you weren’t an officer anymore.”

“I don’t like it when bad guys get away,” Stabler carried on, the voice in his head persuading him to carry on, “Whether I’m a cop or not, I think we need a talk.”

Stabler smirked at Dean as he stood across from him. Dean tilted his head, trying to work out if any magic was involved or if this was just a guy with a temper. It was hard to tell just by looking at him.

“They say that your profile doesn’t add up, Dean.” Stabler raised an eyebrow in discontent, “But after several hours of studying it, I figured some of it out.”

“Oh, did you?” Dean sighed. What crazy-ass rubbish was this cop going to spout? He was pretty sure he’d heard it all before.

Stabler took the second chair and sat down across from Dean. “Religiously motivated, now that’s something they all agree on. You slaughter left, right and center and sometimes let victims go. Victims who are your preferred type.

“Now, I’m unsure as to whether you believe your daddy’s fantasies or not. But I sure as hell believe that you convinced Sam that the delusions are real. I see names, Winchester. Names of women you abducted, you tortured, you raped. But not all of them the same way.

“Madison Lamb, dead. Ava Wilson, dead. Anna Milton, missing. Ilchester Jane Doe, dead. Charlie Bradbury your associate, dead. But here’s the thing; we know that your little bro had sex with Madison. We know that she was tied up, like those women in St. Louis. But only his semen was found in her body. Don’t even try to deny what happened to those women in St. Louis, Dean. We have you pinned for that. We caught you at the scene.

“Now, Madison’s murder got me thinking. Henriksen may have missed it, but I pondered on it for a while and I came up with the answer.”

Stabler inwardly smiled when he saw Dean’s discomfort.

“You dote on Sammy, Dean. We know about your violent tendencies and your shared religious devotion. Is it really as shared as we think, though? Sam spent time in the normal world for four years. You can charm the back end off a donkey but Sam has those puppy-dog eyes. Yes, we saw the autopsy report on Ilchester Jane Doe. She had old wounds that had healed. We can’t prove it was you, but we do know that Ilchester Jane Doe was seen with your brother on occasion.

“We know about how you pour salt down innocents’ throats and carve them like turkeys. You delight in torture, Dean. We’ve found bodies. Stabbed, strangled, shot, beaten – you don’t stick to one modus operandi, do you? But here’s the thing, Dean. We’ve found Sam’s DNA, but not yours.

“I know you’re not a rapist, Dean. But Sam is.”

Dean was furious and it showed. He wanted to stand up, to punch this guy in the throat, but he had no idea if this would make things worse.

Stabler hadn’t felt this good in a long time. He was finally letting a perp know just what he thought of them. He didn’t know what was controlling him, what was really making him go crazy.

He had read the Winchester files. The girls and women, so pretty in life and rigid in death. Imagined Kathy or Kathleen or Maureen on those slabs. It was a problem that Stabler had seen time and time again.

And now he could express his theory on the Winchesters.

“Thought so. Ava Wilson was spotted with Sam. Ilchester Jane Doe was Sam’s willing servant when the two kidnapped Cindy McClellan. So I think that when you were the good, ‘protective’ big brother, telling Sam all about the evils of the world, you said you could give him all the girls he could ever want. Maybe you decided that St. Louis was too tempting and did all that yourself, you greedy thing. You killed Jessica because she was standing in the way. Maybe you believed that she was a monster. But you told Sam that if he went off with you, he could have all the sex he wanted. Both from you and from unwilling women you stalked and abducted from their homes.”

Stabler raised his voice, nearly shouting as he did so.

“You let your brother rape these women. Probably while you watched. What did he do, huh? Did he tie them to chairs, like Madison? Or is he a lying down sort of guy?”

“You shut the hell up about my brother!” Dean glared at Stabler.

Stabler was now standing straight, walking around the room in a circle.

“Did you always go back to Cold Oak, Dean? Was it somewhere Daddy liked to take you, huh? Is Anna buried there? Or did you stash her somewhere else? How many girls haven’t we found yet, Dean? Ten? Twenty? Did Sam actually do the killings, if you convinced him that they were monsters after the fun had ended?”

Stabler was now in front of Dean again, his large hands gripping the back of the chair. The prisoner glared up at the man, desperate to rip out his lungs. But he knew that he couldn’t.

“How did it start, Dean? How did sweet little Sammy turn into a sex demon? I read Huang’s theory and your file from the FBI. I know the Jane Doe in Seattle is your daughter. Now I don’t know how extended families work up at that cult you were in, but I can guess that those ladies decided to give you a nice honeymoon after the double wedding.”

Stabler felt sick even as he said those words. “Disgusts me to say it, to be frank. Fifteen is illegal in every one of the fifty states. Eleven is definitely illegal.”

“You shut up-“ Dean started to say, but Stabler was on a roll.

“Maybe you told yourself that you were old enough to enjoy it. Perhaps you did. I mean, a fifteen-year-old having permission from his dad to bed an older woman? But an eleven-year-old boy, still trying to figure out his body? Not so much. I understand the pain he would have felt, Dean; while you and your bride played out the contents of the Karma Sutra, he was crying for his bride to stop. I would wager that that was the moment he decided to do the same to every woman he could get his hands on and you helped him the whole time.”

Despite everything, Dean sat up straight and glanced, stony-faced before speaking matter-of-factly, a smile appearing on his face for a fraction of a second.

“When I’m done here I’m going to rip your junk off and feed it to the hellhounds.”

Stabler raised an eyebrow. Ignoring Dean, he carried on with his interrogation. To be frank, it was more of attempting to belittle Dean and anyone or anything that tried to do that would always be in hot water.

“I wonder how many you killed, Dean. You’ve even killed children. Don’t try and wriggle out of this. Jesse Turner, the Silver boys in Merlin. DNA links you there. Main difference between your sex acts and Sammy’s is that you don’t kidnap and brainwash your targets first. Oh, with one exception, of course.”

Stabler held up an index finger. Dean didn’t like where this was going. He was a bit uncertain exactly what the ex-cop was saying.

“You lured Jimmy Novak away from his house. Away from his wife and daughter. A sick, vulnerable man with a happy home, something you wanted. Maybe he reminded you of Daddy before everything went flipside. But Jimmy devotes on you, we see that. You molded his already broken mind into your religious devotee. And I’m certain he’s also your toy. From the reports, he always looks at you with that strange look. He desires you, Dean. Or maybe you made him your own.”

If looks could kill, Dean would be looking at another murder charge. But instead Stabler only turned around and walked out of the cell, locking the door behind him.

Dean was so furious that he hadn’t noticed that Stabler should have been asking more questions. If he had, maybe things would have gone rather differently.

Once Stabler had left the room, the funny feeling left his body. He blinked, wondering what on Earth had made him react like that. Sure, the Winchesters were violent sociopaths and he had believed every word of what he had just said to Dean.

But he had kept these thoughts to himself. Maybe the temptation was too strong, he told himself.

He couldn’t let anyone find out what he had just done. But Liv…

What had happened to Liv to make her want to help the brothers?

Inside his office, Barba groaned when he saw the size of the Winchester file.

He had heard of SVU’s escapade with them a few years ago. He just hoped Liv was up to standards this time. Barba hadn’t asked her why she had transferred the brothers to 1PP, but he thought it was something to do with the Sergeant trying to prove herself and make up for last time. Barba just hoped it would work.

He, on the other hand, had to go through witness reports going back ten years. There was a bit of a gap in the summer of 2010, along with another one in the summer of 2012, where no known crimes were committed. But then again, Barba told himself, the brothers had no distinctive modus operandi – they could have been committing low-level crimes or perhaps some crimes had gone unreported. 

Barba leafed through the messages that had come from people who said the Winchesters had saved them. It was frankly unbelievable.

_“They saved my daughter from drowning…”_  
_“They helped save me from a demon…”_  
_“Them boys you’re accusing? Rescued us from vampires…”_  
_“The Winchesters saved my life when our coach was possessed…”_  
_“The Winchesters saved my family…”_  
_“They rescued me and my kids from a ghost haunting our house – their old house…”_  
_“The Winchesters and the guy with the trench coat helped to bring my family peace…”_  
_“They saved us.”_

It was a nightmare. Many accusations came in of rape, murder, grave desecration, credit card fraud – but the murders and rapes were outnumbered drastically by the sheer amount of well-wishers and claims they were innocent.

He had no idea what to do. To top it all off Benson, Fin and Rollins said that when they found the brothers five years ago, the two had saved their lives. Barba couldn’t believe this. He wouldn’t have expected Liv and her department to fall for these guys.

Even when Barba tracked down Cragen and Munch to ask them, he heard only good things. Munch said something about demons and even meeting the boys’ father twenty-two years ago, which weirdly enough did not sound bizarre coming from Munch.

What sort of creatures were these brothers?

Barba rubbed his neck. He needed a stiff drink. Maybe when he was stopping by for another lawyer’s birthday celebration in a few days at the _White Lady_. If he wasn’t up to his nose in Winchester statements.

“Have you done it?” the Amazon asked the witch as soon as she had finished her spell.

The witch stood up from her bowl and smiled sweetly at her friend and partner-in-crime. “He was like a dog with a bone. It was too good to miss.”

Then the Amazon thought of her beautiful children. “They’re ready to go soon. No more than two to a club.” She sighed. “Because of men like the Winchesters, our numbers have dwindled heavily. A century ago there were twenty of us in our clan. Now there are just six.”

“Consider yourselves lucky,” the witch scoffed, “My little Bethany hasn’t been protected like I thought she would be.”

“You’ll see her again,” the Amazon smiled, “Now, I believe you were going in person to the police station?”

“Ah yes,” the witch agreed, “How fitting that their particular taskforce tends to sexual abuse victims. My videotapes are ready. The camera never lies? Not when magic is involved.”

The Amazon turned away, ready to prepare her children – one of the many, many generations she had seen be born, live and grow old in her time on this Earth – for the ritual that was needed to take place.

The bars were already chosen. Last time they had been in New York, bars had been banned under drinking laws. That year had been a tricky one, she could recall.

This time, however, she had chosen ahead of time. _Bee’s Knees_ , _White Lady_ and _Gimlet_.

And with the Winchesters out of the way, they might succeed this time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for being rather tardy with this, but I have been extremely busy and suffered from writer's block. Most of this chapter had already been typed up and I don't have much beyond this point, although I do have a firm outline, so the next chapter might be some way off.

“Excuse me?” a voice asked, causing Amanda Rollins to look up from the report she was typing.

“Yes?” Rollins looked up at who had spoken. A thin, nervous-looking blonde stood there, wearing denim dungarees and a yellow plaid shirt and carrying a battered-looking old blue suitcase. She chewed on a nail on her right hand.

“I was told to come here?” The woman lowered her voice, “It’s – it’s about – could we go please somewhere a little more private?”

“Sure, of course,” Rollins got up, thankful that she wouldn’t have to write yet another report on what had happened the last time the Winchesters were here, going over to another room.

As soon as Rollins shut the door, she asked the woman, “Where do you want to begin?”

The nervous-looking woman took a seat. Her eyes didn’t leave Rollins once.

“I’m Nicky,” she told her, “When I was young – well, when my sisters and I were young – we used to live on this reservation up in Washington State.”

Rollins nodded, although she was unsure where this was headed.

“And well – I hate to say this, but –“ the woman pulled out some video cassettes from her suitcase, “I read that you’re – you’re holding the Winchester brothers?”

A chill ran down Rollins’ spine. She suddenly began to wonder if this woman was even human. Looking into the woman’s eyes, Rollins tried to see if they would turn black.

If she cried out now, would the brothers find her in time?

“The boys married my sisters,” Nicky swallowed, “Back in 1994. I have the wedding video.”

Rollins blinked. That was certainly not what she had been expecting. She glanced down at the video cassettes in front of her.

There were about ten of them, all with different years scribbled on them in marker pen. 1994, 1997, 2001, 2005; Rollins guessed that maybe this woman – or whatever she was – had DVDs with the very same marker pen.

She knew that what this woman was saying was likely to be a load of nonsense. But all the same, she had to get Olivia.

And the brothers.

“Is – is it okay if I get my Sergeant?” Rollins felt the words stick in her throat.

Nicky nodded. “Of course.”

Rollins almost ran down the hallway, aiming to put as much distance as possible between herself and the woman.

“Sergeant,” she opened Olivia’s door without even knocking, barely noticing that her superior was talking to Carisi, “we have a problem.”

Carisi had rarely seen Rollins look as scared as she did now. But his mind was still dizzy from trying to work out what Benson had been telling him.

Demons? Witches? Hunters? It had sounded like the Sergeant had been drinking the Kool-Aid.

But the big problem was that he had always trusted Benson. She was no-nonsense and headstrong. If she said something had happened, it must have happened, because Carisi could see no other explanation. All the same, it seemed rather far-fetched. He’d have expected this sort of bizarre story from Munch, but Benson? The whole situation seemed absurd.

“Carisi, I’m – I’m going to have to go.” Olivia’s voice started to falter as she stood up, supporting herself on the desk, before walking quickly out of the room. Rollins paced after her, just as flustered.

Carisi groaned as he slouched on his seat. He knew that he shouldn’t but he didn’t think that anyone was watching. In any case, he needed time to think.

The lawyer hired for the prosecution was a smarmy-looking man with an unconvincing comb over and large glasses. He had won six cases, but none of them had been as large as this one. In fact, the media was abuzz with these infamous brothers. Back from the dead, several headlines screamed, saying they hunt monsters when they are the actual monsters.

Barba knew that he should ignore this and wait for the case. The lawyer had slammed down yet another newspaper onto his desk and smirked down at Barba.

“The fact is,” the lawyer addressed Barba, “that there is sufficient evidence to conclude that there is a cult that John Winchester and his boys belonged to. What do we have? Well to start with, the boys were sometimes off the radar for weeks or months at a time, while their father was spotted across the country. The occult thing didn’t just happen out of nowhere.”

Barba looked up. “Your hands are sweating over my desk.”

The lawyer ignored him. He seemed to like hearing the sound of his own voice. This habit made rather good lawyers, but rather irritating people.

“This piece of evidence is the big one,” the lawyer pulled out a file and showed the autopsy picture, “In February 2012, gunshots were heard from a motel in Seattle. A Jane Doe was found inside the room. The police investigation recovered DNA from dead skin on the beds. They checked it against the national database and linked the evidence to Dean and Sam Winchester. So far, so normal for these two. The aliases used in the sign-in register also matched with the two men. But here is the crucial piece.

“The Jane Doe had her DNA placed inside CODIS and was compared against known criminals. It was a long shot, but worth looking into. The Jane Doe is paternally related to Dean Winchester. She is his daughter.”

Barba took a look, couldn’t help but think she looked rather young. The autopsy put her age as fourteen or fifteen years. She had been cared for, had perfect teeth and clean hair, no history of substance abuse, even perfect nails. The strange thing was that she showed no history of childhood illnesses or even vaccinations, from what they could find.

“Wait a second,” Barba questioned the lawyer, “this was January 2012, right?”

The lawyer nodded, standing up, placing his hands in his pockets and going for a quick jaunt around Barba’s office. All Barba wanted to do was get him out of here, but with the longed-awaited trial in just a few days' time, he needed all the help he could get.

“So that means,” Barba did a quick calculation inside his head, “Dean was…thirty-three when she died.” He paused. “Dean was in his late teens when she was born. That doesn’t necessarily mean a cult; Dean was said to be a ladies’ man –“

“Look at the report,” the lawyer prodded his finger on the medical conditions, “No vaccinations. No childhood illnesses one would get from playing with other children. If a kid isn’t vaccinated against chickenpox, but plays with other children who might carry the disease, they’d be infected, wouldn’t they?”

Barba remembered a case the Special Victims Unit had handled a few years ago. Yes, that did make sense.

“And it doesn’t say here, but the girl had no healed wounds or scarring. She was kept in a clean environment. This is a young woman who was cared for. Practically wrapped in cotton wool. The photo was shown across the nation and even beyond. This isn’t the Eighties, where we didn’t have internet or social media. This girl was cared for, she was in perfect health, yet no-one knew her. From what Dean told the Special Victims Unit when he was last in custody with them, he mentioned that she was definitely his child.” The lawyer turned on the TV sitting next to the desk, the footage from Dean’s interview appearing on screen.

In the video, Officer Tutuola was interrogating Dean, slapping the morgue photo down.

 _“DNA says she’s your kid. Not John’s, not Sam’s. Not any uncles’ or cousins’ or nothing. Yours. Now, the autopsy says that she’s mid-teens, possible age range is fourteen to sixteen –“_ Winchester placed his head in his hands, fed up, _“Puts her birth at…let’s say ’96, since it was back in February. Give or take a year. And in 1996, you were seventeen. So maybe it’s a teenage fling. Maybe it’s statutory rape. But given how most of your female victims are in their twenties, the baby momma was in her twenties when you were a Backstreet Boy. Of course, it depends on what state you were doing the deed in…”_

Winchester spoke. _“Her name’s Lydia.”_ Then he sat up properly. _“The mom’s named Lydia. And it was in Seattle. The girl…my daughter…she’s Emma. Never knew Lydia’s surname. Don’t think she has one.”_

The lawyer paused the video.

“The age of consent in Washington is sixteen, isn’t it? So the statutory rape claim might still stand.” Barba asked the lawyer, clasping his hands and resting his chin on them.

The lawyer nodded. “Emma Doe, as she began to be called, is our key evidence. Why would Winchester say that he isn’t sure if the woman had a surname? Maybe the cult doesn’t use surnames.”

He looked Barba directly in the eye. “The Winchesters belong locked up. I leave you to give them a fair trial.”

Most lawyers would give their right arm for a case like this, Barba reminded himself as the prosecution shut the door behind him.

He needed a drink.

No. Best wait until the party.

“It’s such a tragedy,” the woman sighed as Amanda faced her in the witness interview room, “My little niece. She said that she heard her dad was back in town and she went off to see him.” She squeezed her eyes shut and wiped a tear from her left eye. “I never would have thought he’d…want to kill her.”

Amanda had a strong feeling that this woman was spouting a whole bunch of lies, but she knew that she had to go through procedure.

“And how do you know – the suspect?”

The woman sat up in her chair. “He was my brother-in-law. Lydia and Rita were my sisters. We grew up at the center together. I met the brothers when their dad brought them there in 1983. Oh, they were such sweethearts!”

The woman gave a small smile and then faced Amanda in the eye. From behind the glass, Olivia shook her head. This woman couldn’t be serious, could she? Olivia knew that this woman was a witch or an Amazon or whatever the brothers said she was. But the problem was, she seemed so genuine. Maybe she was under some kind of spell?

“John didn’t spend much time with us. But when the girls were grown up, there was tragedy. Lydia’s first husband died when fighting a dragon. Rita’s when he drowned going after a water-demon.”

Again, Olivia wanted to ask the brothers how much of this was a load of nonsense, but she was also wondering what this woman would gain from doing this. The jury certainly wouldn’t believe her.

“The wedding was – let me see,” the woman pulled a video cassette from her bag with the words _‘Boys’ Weddings’_ on the front in scrawled green ink, “It was November 2nd 1994. John didn’t want to have to do it on the day Mary died, but we didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Explain.” Amanda asked slowly, feeling exhausted inside from the amount of manure the woman was spouting.

The woman squirmed in her seat. “We have to have unions before the age of fifteen if we want to be seen as grown-up and responsible. Lydia was twenty and Rita was nineteen. They’d been widows for four months already and were being left out of hunts. So it was decided by the – I’d suppose you’d call her ‘House Mother’ but she’s really called Ellen – that two pubescent boys were less likely to take advantage of them. Usually we’d have to wait until one of us is twelve before we can conduct ceremonies, but she made an exception.

“I was holding the camera at the wedding. My sisters looked wonderful. They had the same house for when John brought the boys back. Lydia was pregnant twice, actually. She had a little boy with Dean in 2000. He’s called Ben and he’s a good little hunter already. Lydia died in summer 2005. I’m not sure of the date. We were fighting a demon. She was called Meg. I think this was in Missouri. Rita died in 2008 of a heart defect. I don’t have any official death certificates since we salt and burn all bodies. I –“ The woman’s face crumpled again, “I don’t want to have to live there anymore. They’re too strict. I’m independent and I want to bury my niece. Make sure she’s home.”

Olivia had had enough of this. Usually she would be trying her best to make the victim comfortable and go through the usual assertion of recovery from brainwashing.

Well, she was trying to comfort the victims all right.

“Dean? Sam?” she asked as she entered the room and saw the younger brother on his bed reading a heavy-looking book and the older one pouring salt on the windowsill, “There’s a woman here who says she knows you.”

“Go on,” Sam looked up from the book which, Olivia could now see, was on demons, judging from the cover. She wondered how on Earth they had brought this in without anyone asking questions.

“The thing is,” Olivia explained, “She says that you two are her in-laws.”

Both brothers stared at her with confusion. Dean swore.

“Sorry, what?” Sam managed to splutter. Then he held his hand up. “Wait, she’s not short, blonde, perky and won’t stop gushing over me, is she?”

“No.”

“Well that rules out Becky,” Dean murmured as he placed the salt down on the table, “What did she say, this woman?”

“Dean, I –“ Olivia paused. “I think you’d better see her for yourself. I recorded the session. It’s protocol. I’ll set it up.”

“Thanks.” Sam told her.

Olivia nodded. “I’ve already broken goodness knows how many rules for you, so I thought that I might as well.”

“I’ll stay here for now,” Sam said to them, “It’s difficult getting even one of us around out of our cells.”

Olivia nodded in agreement, already worn out from everything that was going on. She didn’t want her life turned even more upside down than it already was.

When Olivia had brought the interview tape in for Dean, who was still sitting in the children’s interview room – the only place that Olivia thought no-one would think they had placed a supposed mass murderer and serial rapist – she asked him if there was any way to tell if she was a monster.

“Well, she’s not a shifter,” Dean had mumbled to himself when the video had begun and Amanda had begun questioning her. By the time it had finished, Olivia noticed how furious he seemed.

He was still glaring at the screen when he told her, “Sergeant Benson, I have no idea where to begin with how full of crap this is. Sh-She's _mocking_ my family history! All the good we've done, Sammy and me. And Dad.” Then he tilted his head. “I know that woman from somewhere. I’ll need to think.”

“Well at the moment, you’re in custody for breaking and entering,” Olivia sighed, “Not to mention everything that the FBI are coming to try you with. They wanted to do this in St. Louis, but I managed to persuade them to do things up here. I said that you had a talent for escaping and we had to try you quickly. Best case scenario until then, you spend Christmas in 1PP.”

Dean looked towards her, his hands in his pockets. “I can’t begin to say how grateful we are. God, I sound like Sam.”

Olivia held her hand on her hip. “Just don’t embarrass us. Or get us killed.”

Then she asked, “Are you squinting?”

“I’m trying to take a good look at her.” Dean replied, still concentrating.

Then his eyes widened.

“Son of a bitch.”

“What is it?” Benson peered over his shoulder. Dean ran a hand down the side of his face.

“I know why she’s after us,” he muttered, “Iowa.”

_September 2009_  
_A church in rural Iowa_

Dean groaned inwardly as he saw the witch walk up onto the platform. His eyes flicked over to Tiffany, standing by the altar in her waitress uniform, holding a bunch of white roses. He also saw her little sister, with emphasis on ‘little’. Neither girl was smiling.

Sam and Dean had been lured to the small town with news of a missing pastor, a murdered schoolgirl from a few months earlier and most importantly, stolen rings from a museum. The rings in question were silver with blue uncut jewels inside. They were also supposedly cursed.

They were cursed, all right. Chatting up waitress Tiffany (even if she had ginger hair that looked as if she had been electrocuted) at the diner had lead Dean over to the pastor’s church to look. That was where Tiffany and her sister Nicky had ambushed him from behind.

Almost an hour later, Dean was sitting on the front pew with his hands secured with zip-ties, Sam at the other end of the bench.

“This is wonderful, isn’t it?” Nicky had opened her arms out wide and grinned. On one side her two sisters stood dumbly, on the other stood the terrified pastor. “I thought that if I started sending out signs then hunters would come along. And what a treat! I get two handsome brothers for my two pretty sisters!”

Tiffany raised a bored eyebrow. Her little sister Bethany, several inches shorter than five foot seven Tiffany, carried on chewing gum. Her ‘bride’s dress’ was the murdered girl’s prom dress. Apparently Bethany had been a fellow student. Her dark hair lay flat across her upper chest.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, unsure if the scene was more horrifying or bizarre.

Dean cleared his throat, then asked Nicky, who was already brewing a love potion on the altar, much to the pastor’s chagrin, “Excuse me, but why the hell did you decide to marry your sisters to hunters?”

Nicky didn’t look up. “Because you hunters are always going after witches. I thought that if I married my little sisters to hunters, then the hunting community won’t want to hurt us. Tiffany thought you looked,” she made quotation marks with her fingers, “’dreamy’.”

“I can think of at least three things wrong with your plan.” Dean sat up straight and pointed his right index finger at Bethany. “For starters, she’s just a kid.”

“Which is why she’s marrying little brother.” Nicky shrugged. Sam paled.

“Secondly,” Dean continued, “just because you marry hunters doesn’t make you immune. Thirdly, she’s a kid!”

“Dean, you already said that.” Sam hissed.

“We started the apocalypse, lady!” Dean shouted, “Everyone’s after us!”

“But you’re still the vessels,” Nicky finished the potion and opened the box with the four blue rings inside, “We need to think big.”

“She’s sixteen!” Dean pointed at Bethany. He knew that sixteen was legal in Iowa, but he had no clue about marriage. Besides, it was also entirely possible that Bethany was even younger, he wasn’t quite sure. “And we hadn’t even met her before today! Don’t you think that’s a little unfair on her?”

“It’s not really fair on your brother, either,” Nicky walked out from behind the altar, “She’s wetter than a harbor in winter.”

She faced Tiffany. “Is everything ready?”

Tiffany gave a smile. “Pastor’s here, bouquets are here, the four somethings are here and the reception at the boys’ motel has been ordered.”

“The somethings?” Dean asked.

“Well,” Tiffany explained, “The ‘something new’ is Bethany’s dress, even though you might say it’s also borrowed. ‘Something blue’ means the rings, although the love potion is blue, by the way, and the rings are old. You already brought the ‘something old’ and ‘something borrowed’.”

“What did we bring?” Sam asked, perplexed and perhaps a little queasy at the idea of being forced to marry an underage witch.

“You brought that hunk of junk sitting in the parking lot.” Tiffany nodded towards the main door.

“We didn’t borrow anything.” Dean argued.

All three witches turned to face him, before Tiffany chortled, her fingers covering with mouth and her press-on nails almost touching her nose.

“Yes, you did,” Tiffany replied, “Your angel had to borrow a vessel, didn’t he?”

The brothers slowly looked back at Nicky. “You are sick.” Dean pulled a face.

“Enough!” Nicky shouted, coming closer and pulling Sam up by the arm, as Tiffany did the same to Dean. Both brothers struggled, digging their heels into the carpet, but it was no use.

“With this ring, I thee wed…” Nicky glared at the pastor. He looked slightly flustered. She then bellowed, “With this ring, I thee wed?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, facing Tiffany, who had dug her pink, painted nails into Dean’s arms and pulled him close, “With this ring, I thee wed…”

“Tiffany Melrose.” Nicky barked.

“Tiffany Melrose…?”

“I certainly do!” Tiffany had grabbed Dean by the collar, pulling him close for a kiss.

Thankfully this was interrupted when Sam elbowed Nicky in the ribs. She groaned in pain as Sam reached across the altar and with his bound hands, threw the love potion onto the carpet. Dean took this opportunity to kick Tiffany’s feet from under her, sending her backwards onto the altar. Leaning down and pulling his knife from his boot, Sam sliced the zip-tie before freeing Dean.

Nicky had stood up by now and had tried to place her hands around Sam’s throat, but not before the younger brother ducked and tackled her to the ground. Tiffany tried grabbing Dean from behind, but he had pulled his own knife out and stabbed her.

When Tiffany sank to the ground, Nicky had screamed. She was about to claw at Sam’s face when a voice made them all jump.

“Get away from them.”

The boys turned to see Castiel standing in the doorway. Dean mumbled something about him ‘taking long enough’. Nicky gave a snarl and then dived out of the back door.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean mumbled as he stepped around Tiffany’s corpse, “You just saved us from a fate worse than death.”

Cas stared in confusion at the older brother, before Sam told him, “He’s being sarcastic, Cas.”

“I see,” Cas nodded slowly as he approached, placing a finger between the pastor’s eyes and letting the man fall unconscious onto the platform, “I thought you boys had figured out their intentions.”

“Well, we hadn’t,” Dean grumbled, “Let’s go.”

“Hold on a sec,” Sam crouched down in front of the altar. Bethany had crawled underneath when everything had gone topside. She looked much younger as she backed away from him, eyes wide.

“You okay?” Sam asked. The girl didn’t answer.

“Sam!” Dean called, as his brother stood up and the three exited the church. Almost as soon as they did, the sound of flapping wings filled the air and Cas had disappeared. Dean groaned. He really needed to talk to Cas about when a conversation had ended.

“What about Nicky?” Sam asked as Dean started up the impala.

“With any luck she won’t come back. Anyway, we’re getting out of here. Unless you want to go back and help Little Orphan Annie.”

“No, I’m fine.” Sam answered, before getting into the passenger seat and they drove away.

_Now_

“Nicky,” Dean explained to Benson, “had been crazy.”

He rested his hands on the table. “Third weirdest wedding I’ve been to.”

The front door was closed and locked, as were the windows. All of them. There was so much dirt and grime caked over the windows that some of the neighbors were unsure if the owner even still lived there.

It was a shame, they all told the cop, an utter recluse after his dad died. Only ever came to the front door to get takeaways and more deliveries of DVDs.

There were so many DVDs and videos over the house, in fact, that not only had the demon arranged them into neat little pyramids, but so many so close together near the only window small enough for a pencil-shaped cop to get through that it was an effective burglar alarm.

Tommy entered the room after hearing the commotion. Perhaps a kid had come through, he told himself, trying to rob the place. Good. He liked kids. They tasted great.

But when he eased open the door, the demon nearly jumped out of his skin – or rather, Tommy’s skin – when he saw the conspiracy nutcase in front of him, after all these years, ready with a knife held high.

Tommy barely noticed when it hit his chest.

“Goodnight, Tommy Westphall.” Munch muttered to himself before making his way back to the window.


	5. Chapter 5

Olivia hoped that this wouldn’t come back to bite her in the backside.

She had managed to get the brothers out of the station and back to her apartment. Getting them out wasn’t the hard part. No, the hard part was that someone might catch her.

“Nice place, Sergeant,” Dean looked around as they walked in, Olivia locking the door behind her, “Why –“

Olivia had started pushing him towards the kitchen area. “Noah’s babysitter is still here,” she whispered to them, “Make sure she doesn’t see you.”

As both brothers sat down on the floor, out of sight of the doorway, said babysitter came out of the next room.

“Oh, Olivia, I didn’t know you would be back yet.”

“I’m so sorry about this,” Olivia gabbled, “but I had to pick up something at the precinct. Crime never takes a vacation, does it?”

Her babysitter giggled before pointing back at the living room, “Noah’s been fed and given a bath. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Olivia ushered the woman out of the door, “Merry Christmas!”

She walked into the living room and saw Noah scribbling in a coloring book. “Noah,” she crouched down in front of him and pulled a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Mommy has some friends over to help her work. But honey, this is important. Look at me.”

Noah looked up.

“You cannot tell anybody that these men were here. Do you understand?”

Noah stared at his mommy for a second before he nodded.

Olivia smiled. “Good boy, Noah.”

She left the room and called out, “You can come out now.” However, Sam had already set his book down on the counter and Dean was leafing through the fridge.

“’You cannot tell anybody that these men were in mommy’s apartment?’” Dean looked over his shoulder and gave a low chuckle. Sam just rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I know how it sounds,” Olivia mumbled, “Look, where would the Amazons be?”

“Thing is,” Sam leaned on the counter and tilted his head upwards, “we can’t find much on them. We’ve learnt a lot more in the last four years since we first met them, though.”

“So what have you learnt?” Olivia sat down at the breakfast bar.

Sam carried on reading. “Well, the Amazons first originated in modern-day Ukraine and Russia. In the Greek myths they supposedly cut their breasts off in order to aim their bows more accurately, but it seems that this particular group of Amazons don’t practice this.”

Dean gave a snort. Sam and Olivia ignored him.

“These Amazons made a deal with the goddess Harmonia,” Sam went on, “giving them supernatural strength and the ability to give birth within thirty-six hours of conception –“

“Hence Emma.” Dean interrupted. He was still looking away from them, skimming through Olivia’s groceries.

Olivia asked Sam, “How long does each generation last?”

“I’m not sure,” Sam replied, “but there were sightings by Crusaders in the Turkish area of horned humans who grew old in seven years. That could be related, since I can’t find much else on humanoids growing that old that quickly.”

“But every two years the Amazons have to go and have sex with unsuspecting men,” Dean had stopped looking inside the fridge and was now pouring himself a cup of coffee, since he doubted that Olivia would have beer on the premises, “The girl grows up in three days and has to cut the hands and feet off from the daddy. But, as you can see, Sam shot Emma so they can be killed with bullets.”

“And how many Amazons are after you specifically? From Lydia’s family?” Olivia asked.

Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not sure. But since the spree from four years ago had six successful homicides, I would guess that there are about six out there. In this particular bloodline, at least.”

“There are more?” Olivia asked.

“Not sure. But all women of childbearing age are sent out to have one-night stands with men, so they could age at any rate.”

“Which means there are more out there,” Olivia pursed her lips and nodded.

Then a thought came to her.

“Emma’s buried in a potter’s field in Washington. Is there anything – you’d want me to do with her body?”

Sam looked over at Dean. He was still focused on the kettle, even though it had stopped boiling.

“We’ll think about it,” Sam answered.

Dean poured his coffee and went to sit on the couch. “Sorry, Sergeant, I feel a bit down. Your – your partner stopped by the interrogation room.”

“Why were you in the interrogation room?” Olivia asked, but all she could think of was El yelling at Dean.

Dean shrugged. “I was trying to carve a Devil’s Trap on the door. Sorry if I didn’t tell you; I just wanted to have a stronghold in case something goes topside.”

Noah toddled in at that moment. He stared up at Sam and Dean, slightly confused. Olivia smiled down at him and lifted him up. “Noah,” she said to him, “these are Mommy’s friends. They’ve come over to talk to her. Say hello.”

Noah rested his head on Olivia’s shoulder and slowly held one palm up, clearly shy. Sam attempted a smile back at him, but Dean didn’t even bother.

Olivia glanced between Noah and the brothers and then placed Noah at the table. “Sam, could you fix Noah’s tea for me? It’s labeled in the fridge.” Then she focused on Dean.

“What did he say to you? My partner?” Olivia sat down on the couch across from Dean.

Dean gave a heavy sigh. “According to him – and by the way, no offence, Sergeant, but he acts like someone pissed in his cereal – Sam’s a sadomasochist and Cas is my sex slave.”

“What?” Sam turned his head to look at them, Noah’s yogurt still in his hand.

“Yeah,” Dean groaned, “Is he always like that, Sergeant?”

Olivia replied, “He – he was always a bit rough with suspects.”

“What are we going to do?” Sam asked, who was already bringing Noah’s tea over on a plate.

Olivia sighed and placed her clenched fists by her mouth in thought. “About Elliot? Probably nothing. He’s not important right now. But if you mean the witch then she brought in a bunch of videotapes.”

“Videotapes?” Sam was interested. “Have you watched them yet?”

“Should I have?” Olivia asked him.

Sam shrugged, walking over to the couch. “Maybe. What did she say was on them?”

“Apparently, your wedding.”

Sam glanced over at Dean for clarification. His older brother responded, “I don’t think she means Iowa.”

“Well, what does she mean?”

“I think they’re fakes.” Dean answered his brother’s question.

“Fakes?” Sam raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief. Dean rolled his eyes.

“I mean,” he groaned, “that Nicky faked a different double wedding to get behind the theory that the FBI used to have about us being raised in Salem’s take on the Manson family.”

“She said that the wedding date was in 1994,” Olivia spoke up and both brothers turned to her, “Which means that since the both of you were minors then, we definitely have to take a look.”

Sam and Dean seemed disgusted and had gone very pale. Olivia pushed herself up from the couch and over to the table. “I’d better feed Noah,” she said, more to herself than the brothers.

The door to the office slowly creaked open. Olivia looked up from the desk. She had felt a little uncomfortable leaving Noah with the brothers and was therefore slightly jumpy. Not that she didn’t trust them – or Sam, at least – to properly take care of her little boy. It was more that trouble stuck to them like a limpet.

“Hi John,” she spoke slowly and a little nervously, “What brings you back here?”

“I brought some of your evidence back,” Munch threw the plastic bag containing Ruby’s demon knife onto Olivia’s desk. She looked up in surprise. She hadn’t even known it had gone.

“I – I – Munch –“ For once Olivia was lost for words, “Why did you even take it?”

Munch explained the ‘demon problem in Baltimore’, pressing his hands into the back of the chair in front of her desk throughout.

“Munch,” she pulled her hair behind her ear, “one of our pieces of evidence is now soaked in demon blood.”

“I washed it off,” he shrugged, “and I doubt the blood will even be picked up properly if it has demon properties. Ask the brothers. Maybe they might know. Besides, I only took it after I knew it had been tested.”

“Munch, why did you go over a hundred and fifty miles to stab a demon?”

“It was a special victims case.”

Olivia’s eyebrows flew up. “ _How_ is this a special victims case?” she almost shouted.

“He was using the boy’s body for thirty years.”

Olivia felt herself sag. “Well –“ she paused, before spreading her hand out in mid-air, “ – please don’t do it again. Aside from – _everything_ – Baltimore is out of my jurisdiction, so don’t do anything that risky. I’m not asking you as a cop, I’m asking you as a friend.”

“I know,” Munch sighed, “I tried talking to Elliot. He’s – he seems very worked up, Liv.”

Munch nodded and left the office, leaving a far too clean dagger in a plastic evidence bag on her desk.

Olivia ran her hands over her face. She had no clue how she was going to solve this case. Or find the Amazons. At least she had some clue as to what she was looking for. Dean said that they were women who flirted with guys in bars before getting pregnant with a little patricidal girl and cutting off the dad’s hands and feet. But that hardly narrowed it down.

Merry Christmas to her.

The witch had left the police station hours ago. She had left a forwarding address, a motel in Hell’s Kitchen, but Olivia was unsure about following up on this. To start with, it might be a trap. But even if it wasn’t then there would be innocent bystanders. For now she would have to show the brothers the videos to see if they could explain anything.

She dialed the number that Sam had provided, knowing that he was more likely to pick up and less likely to shout.

“Hi Sergeant,” she heard him say on the other end, “is everything OK?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Olivia gave a worn sigh, “Um, I think I need one of you guys to look at the videotapes. I’m really sorry that you have to do this, but we need to stop anything out of the ordinary that could be used to suggest the videos are fakes.”

“But you said that the videos would show us getting married,” Sam pointed out, confused.

“I know,” Olivia explained, “but if we find anything unusual to question the authenticity of these tapes then they won’t be shown to a jury.”

Sam thought for a moment. “I need to work out where the Amazons might be,” he had told Olivia, “Dean’s more of a hands-on guy.”

As soon as he put the phone down, Dean, having heard most of the conversation, came into the kitchen.

“So I go down to the station, risking myself being caught because our faces are plastered on the front page, while you stay here and play Mommy?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We’ve faced worse, Dean. And besides, it’s Christmas. Everybody’s going to be indoors.”

Dean muttered something that sounded like ‘except the Jews eating Chinese food’. Then he went over to the door.

“See you later, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Olivia had set the screen up in a briefing room. Rollins and Carisi were sat down at two of the chairs. Rollins only had an hour to spare and Carisi had been brought in because Olivia still felt as if he didn’t entirely believe them.

He didn’t. He wanted to believe Olivia, he had said as much numerous times, including when he came in that afternoon, but the second Dean stepped into the room, Carisi had fidgeted and instinctively felt for the gun on his belt.

Dean eyed him and sat as far away from him as possible.

“OK,” Olivia shut the door, “this is the video sent in by Nicky – and she didn’t leave a last name, by the way, so we just call her Nicky for now – and I hate to say this, Dean, but you need to watch it.”

The video flashed out on the screen. Dean watched in disgust and horror, knowing it was fake.

It showed himself, wearing a long beige robe, standing out in a field. This was just how he had looked at sixteen years old. Still looking good, Dean found himself thinking.

The woman standing by the younger version of himself, also wearing a long robe, although hers was a rather sickly shade of yellow, turned back to the camera and smiled, giving a quick little wave.

Dean sat forward in his seat, furious. That was Jo. Whatever spell the witch had cast, whoever she had standing in, had used Jo’s face.

The camera panned to the right and Dean clenched his fists. Standing in a pew dumped in the field was his dad, little Sammy by his side, also wearing the same beige robes. ‘John’ had his hand on ‘Sam’s’ shoulder, whispering, _“It’s fine, Sammy. You boys are growing up now.”_ Next to Sam stood Ruby’s first form. Or at least, someone with her likeness.

The two were holding hands.

‘Jo’ lifted a cup of water from the stream behind them, lifted it cheerfully and gave it to the fake Dean, who drank from it. She did the same and then the two of them kissed.

Olivia paused the video. She could see that Dean was itching to shout, to swear, to hit something. She’d seen it before, on cops and perps.

On El.

“This is very tricky for us, guys, believe me,” she sighed as she looked at Dean, who was desperately trying not to storm out of the room in anger, “We know you’re innocent. But the court will believe this. This – this is pedophilia right there.”

“What you mean?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow, “I – whoever’s on that screen looks close enough to –“ he paused, “pass.”

The video started up again. Benson, her arms folded, looked out of the corner of her eye at the brothers with sympathy. She knew how tough this was for her. It put her in a difficult situation. She knew from what she’d seen of the Winchester brothers that they were innocent, but this video would convince a jury otherwise.

The video had a toddler standing outside of a cot. The very cot, the very room even, that Dean had seen in Lydia’s house. This was his memory of meeting Emma. The witches had cut-and-pasted his memories onto the video, like the world’s most horrible collage.

Then he appeared on the video, as he had seemed at eighteen or nineteen years old. ‘Jo’ put her arm around him and spoke to the camera. To Dean’s revulsion and dismay, he heard Jo’s voice coming out. _“Sam, put the camera down!”_

The last video appeared. It showed Dean himself standing outside the impala, as his dad slammed the trunk shut. The background was the same place as the wedding. Dean squinted, wondering where that was. Then it came to him – it was in Oregon. Where his dad had killed a witch. Of course the coven would pick this memory.

The fake Dean walked to the camera, teasing, _“Lydia, I’ll be back before you know it.”_

Jo’s voice laughed, _“I know. Have fun, boys.”_

Then a loud squeal came from the left. The fake Dean turned and knelt on the ground, arms spread out. _“How’s my favorite little girl?”_ the fake Dean asked, as a pink blur ran into his arms.

Emma.

The Emma that Dean saw leave Lydia’s house, down to the clothes. But her face was turned away from the camera. Of course; Dean hadn’t got a good look at them when they left the house. The witches didn’t have a good enough ‘focus’. Dean wondered that if they saw the kid’s face, it would be a blur, similar to when people pressed zoom on their camera and found themselves looking at a mess.

 _“Be good for your mom, you hear?”_ the fake Dean asked, rather roboticly, not moving as he held the kid. For a second, Dean thought he saw the girl’s skin turn into a mannequin’s. But the human skin was back before his brain could process this.

 _“Say hi to Uncle Sammy for me!”_ the little girl laughed. Dean wondered whose voice they used. It definitely seemed like a real child.

Olivia paused the video again. Rollins sympathetically turned to Dean, clasping her hands. “The boy in the tape is Sam, right? Or someone passing as Sam?”

“Right.” Dean slowly replied. He didn’t like the sound of this.

“Well,” Rollins looked at her hands for a second before looking back up at Dean’s face, “The tape shows him – kissing – that woman holding his hand in the wedding.”

“Ruby?” Despite everything that was going on, Dean wanted to laugh. “She was a demon. And before you ask, it’s the same Ruby as the Jane Doe, just another form. That witch is nuts.” He wanted to say that he believed that she was disgusting since she had used Ruby and Jo and John, but that went without saying.

“Or whoever’s made this,” Olivia argued, “Fact is, the jury will see someone who is clearly a minor being kissed by an older woman. And there’s something at the beginning of the – whoever disguised themselves as John telling the camera that it was ‘his boys’ time to marry the daughters of the Righteous’. God, that sounds like quite a few of the cases that the department’s had but the difference is we know the witch faked this.”

At least, Rollins and I know, Olivia reminded herself. She wasn’t so sure about Carisi, who kept opening his mouth to try and say something, but thought better of it and shut it again.

Dean stared at the screen again. When he found that witch, he wasn’t just going to kill her.

Olivia asked, “You know the women here?” she pointed at the screen.

Dean nodded. “Ruby and Jo are dead. That’s definite.”

“Where was this supposedly filmed?” Carisi spoke up at last, asking the only question he could think of what didn’t make him sound insane. He trusted Benson and Rollins, but he did think that this appeared to be the genuine article. He had no clue what to make of this. This seemed like the genuine article, but he wanted to trust his superior.

“A lake in the Pacific Cascades,” Rollins showed them the envelope that the video had been placed inside, with the address written on the front, “The video’s going to be analyzed to see if it’s a fake.”

“Human methods won’t work,” Dean sighed, “There’s no way a jury’s gonna believe that Dad – Dad wasn’t –“ He pursed his lips and ran a hand through his hair. “The jury will think I’m cuckoo for Coco Puffs.”

Benson sighed. “Thing is, if it quacks like a duck…” She shook her head. Then she turned to Rollins and Carisi, “We need to check for anachronisms. When we figure out where it takes place, we can see if it looked like that back in 1994. It’s pretty much the best we can do without the FBI thinking that the NYPD has gotten crazy.”

Dean spoke up, trying not to show his seething anger. “Are there any other tapes that show me kissing Jo?”

Olivia nodded. “None of the woman you kissed. Or…her likeness. But there’s a few of people pretending to be your dad and brother…murdering people.”

Dean thought for a moment. “When I glimpsed Emma, when she was…ageing fifteen years in a day, I saw a toddler in the morning and a little girl in the afternoon. I don’t think the witch used fakes for everyone; I think she copied memories from our heads.”

“Sorry, copied?” Rollins questioned.

Dean explained about waking up at the Greek restaurant. “Basically somebody made a disturbing collage with our memories. Go back, look at the kid holding me. I didn’t get a good look at Emma’s face when she was that age. And I think they used a dummy.”

Rollins looked between her fellow cops before she spoke. “I – thought I saw a mannequin too. Just for a fraction of a second.”

“I still think looking for anachronisms is our best bet,” Olivia informed her colleagues, “This is bizarre, yes, but we need to do something.”

When the younger officers left, Olivia sat next to Dean. “How do you…become hunters?”

“It varies,” Dean sighed, staring at the table, “It’s a lonely life. Can’t have anyone. Friends, family, cut them out.”

“A little like the police force,” Olivia mumbled, “Munch…Munch is getting bored of retirement. Says he keeps seeing monsters all over New York. I mean, he’s seen monsters all his life, human, supernatural, imaginary…but if he had a base, if there was a possibility, would you tell him to go for it?”

Dean thought back to Henriksen. The FBI agent had nothing when Lilith killed him. From the way he acted inside the police station, Dean was pretty certain that Henriksen was about to become a hunter when he left Colorado. And he would have made a great one, Dean knew well enough.

“Well, your guy Munch was pretty old,” Dean rubbed his neck in thought, “But like you said, he’s a conspiracy nut and knows New York like the back of his hand. I think he’d be OK.”

Then he paused. “What about your friend? Your old partner?”

Olivia sighed. “He’s always been a bit wound up. It’s true what you said earlier. He’s – he’s got the department into a lot of trouble before.”

Dean nodded. “One of those guys that acts before he thinks?”

“Hit the nail on the head,” Olivia groaned, “But it’s the jury we need to convince right now. And – and I don’t know how we’re going to do that.”

When Dean was alone in the viewing room, he looked up at the screen. A still image of himself holding the younger version of Emma looked back.

The witch and the Amazons had done more than use his body and incriminate him with a video to make a judge think that he and Sam were brainwashed soldiers. They had dangled temptation in front of him.

A life that he would never have. One that he could never have.

Not as long as he was a hunter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again, I apologize for taking such a long time. I have been rather busy.

It had been three days since Dean had seen the videotape. Olivia had brought the brothers back to the station to stay in the bunk room, just in case anyone spotted them outside.

Now she had brought Dean into the briefing room to watch the other videos. This was a part of the job that she really hated above all else, but it was an important part and she needed to do it.

Sometimes she really hated her job. She wondered if the brothers did as well.

The witch had left thirty individual videotapes and DVDs. All were labeled with dates. Sometimes separate dates, sometimes only a year. They started back in 1984 and went up to 2015.

The lawyers and the reporters would love this. Olivia didn’t.

Olivia felt as if she had to show him each one to see if there could be any evidence that these were fake. Of course she knew they were fakes, but Olivia wanted to find any evidence of them being fakes that a jury would believe.

Most of the ‘torture videos’ started off the same. They took place in Bobby’s basement or his panic room – or at least Dean’s memories of them – and involved either a chair or the cot with crude restraints. They would show Sam or Dean from behind, sometimes John as well, torturing the victim.

The victim’s face was often obscured but the voice was always recognizable. Recordings of the brothers’ voices as they read out exorcisms or private conversations the two had had about individual monsters.

Sometimes Dean would think that he saw a mannequin instead of a victim, but then the victim would appear to be human again.

He knew them all, he told Olivia whenever she paused a video. If Olivia didn’t know which of the failed rescue attempts was on the screen, Dean would tell her.

Olivia recognized Ava Wilson, Andy Gallagher, Anna Milton and Jesse Turner. But Dean had to point out the others.

Sam’s fifth grade teacher, who turned out to be a harpy, with a fake John yelling at her. Jenny, the woman kidnapped by Luther the vampire and turned into one herself. Katie Burns, the woman killed by H. H. Holmes’ ghost. The hunters Tamara and Isaac. Casey and Father Gil. Stewie Myers, the phone company technician killed by a crocotta. The waitress from Tampa.

Those were all that he was willing to say, anyway. Olivia suspected that he knew some of the other people but didn’t want to say how he knew them.

There were also addresses on some of the videotapes. Greenwood, MS. Sioux Falls, IA. Canton, OH. Housatonic, MA. Blue Earth, MN. Kenosha, WI. And many more.

But she didn’t question Dean about them. She hadn’t shown them to him yet.

He just sat staring into space. Olivia didn’t want to ask him what he was feeling. Guilt? Anger? Sadness? All of them?

She had seen those emotions on victims, both real and faked.

She should know this game by now.

Did she?

“Dean,” Olivia started to say, “we need to think about the trial. It’s in two days and the security is going to be tighter.”

“So?” Dean seemed angry but Olivia doubted it was aimed at her.

“So, Dean,” Olivia explained slowly and carefully, “You won’t be able to look for the Amazons. You’ll need our help.”

“OK,” Dean mumbled, but he still didn’t look towards her.

The best course of action, according to Dean, was to try and stake the Amazons out. Nicky had provided an address, so they might as well go there.

Olivia voiced her concerns that this might be a trap. “I don’t think they’ll hurt a cop who wants to know more about the case,” Dean shrugged.

But he advised her to have protection all the same.

Dean had closed his eyes and murmured under his breath, “Cas, Cas, please come down off your feathery ass.”

There was the sound of flapping wings and Castiel stood next to the table. Olivia tried not to be surprised. But she was still scared all the same.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel then turned his gaze towards Olivia, “Hello Officer Benson.”

“It’s Sergeant now,” Olivia nodded and gave a quick smile.

“First of all, Cas,” Dean pressed his elbow into the table and leaned into his fingers, “when we left Mt. St. Helens the BAU had already called my phone and left a message with you.”

Castiel answered with, “I tried to tell you but you were shouting about getting ashes out of your flask and hair.”

Dean smirked. “Second of all, Benson here needs protection going into an Amazons’ den that is also housing a witch.”

Castiel looked up at Olivia. “I think that should be sufficient.”

Olivia had arrived outside the motel by noon. Castiel had already examined the area and found no traces of angel sigils. Either the Amazons didn’t think that the boys had called him or they didn’t care.

As soon as Olivia got out of the car she saw Nicky exiting her room. Olivia paused before ducking down, although she didn’t know why since the witch would have spotted the vehicle anyway.

Nicky started to exit the parking lot and walk down the block. Olivia waited for a few moments, wondering if this was a trap. But Castiel had said that the Amazons weren’t expecting him, so perhaps they weren’t expecting the police either.

Cautiously, Olivia made her way to the door that Nicky had come out from. It was still unlocked. The hairs on the back of Olivia’s neck stood up as she began to worry about what may be inside.

But when she pushed it open, it seemed to be an ordinary room. She still held her gun by her side just in case, however.

After a quick search of opening and closing the drawers and looking under the pillows, she called out into the parking lot.

“Castiel? Could you please help me move the mattress?”

“Yes.”

Olivia jumped. The angel had appeared on her right. As Olivia got her breath back she wondered how often this happened for the brothers.

“Err,” she searched for the right words, “could you help me, please?”

He pulled the mattress away in one fell swoop. As Olivia stared at the blankets now crumpled on the floor, she wondered if she should have asked the angel to take them off first. It didn’t matter right now. All Olivia could see was a piece of paper. It had been continuously folded and unfolded and the corner was slightly torn, but it was something.

Picking it up, she noticed two more equally messy sheets of paper beneath it. Olivia pulled a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she read.

“What is it?” Castiel asked.

“I think it’s a list of the Amazons and where they’re going,” Olivia turned around and started walking out, Castiel following her, “We need to get this to the brothers.”

There was a quick flapping of wings. As she turned about, Olivia could see that the angel had gone.

“I hadn’t finished yet,” she mumbled to herself as she got into the police car.

Then she stopped as she took a good look at the minibus nearby. She could see Nicky at the very end, her arms full of newspapers, looking around her as she wore an outfit that was definitely unsuitable for a New York December. Olivia got into the car and turned slowly, making sure that the dashcam caught every single one of the Amazons - as she presumed they were.

She just hoped this would work.

“Any news?” the Amazon asked as Nicky got onto the minibus.

Nicky nodded and sat down in the row behind her. “The trial’s going to be big. I found four different newspapers with their mugshots on the front page. And that isn’t even taking into account the online articles.”

The Amazon looked in the mirror. “Our last attempt to get revenge on them was a failure.”

Nicky snorted. “You used my love potion on puppy-dog eyes. It wasn’t my fault that he left her.”

The Amazon clutched the steering wheel tight. “This time, mark my words, they will pay.”

“Ah, yes,” Nicky nodded. “The Winchesters will be found guilty. All the more reason to celebrate.”

“You said that you left Bethany after Tiffany was killed,” the Amazon frowned, “Wouldn’t you want to stay and look after your remaining brethren?”

Nicky snorted. “If you mean my little sister, she’s a complete wimp. ‘No, no’ this and ‘no, no’ that. She didn’t want to look through dumpsters for ingredients and locked herself away in cupboards if there was a fight with hunters. I was glad to leave her behind. I would have left her behind in the restroom at the diner ten years ago if she hadn’t been eleven.”

The Amazon rolled her eyes. What the witch did was her own choice. No, the Amazon would look after her children.

It hadn’t been long after Emma’s death that the older Amazon had tried to trick the boys. Seduce little brother, that had been her plan. She didn’t want to use another of her children. Instead, the older Amazon had asked an Amazon from another branch. This particular branch grew old in twenty years rather than seven and none of the other Amazons even liked her since she had run off. But this way, they promised her, she would have someone to love her and not go off and fight and die in Afghanistan like the last guy. It shouldn’t have mattered. Have Sam nice and compliant while he forgot about Dean rotting in Purgatory. But then Dean had survived. He had come back.

And Sam went away again.

Hopefully, the Amazon told herself as she picked up a newspaper and stroked her long nail down the picture of the mugshots, this time she would be more fortunate.

Sam looked at the list of Amazons. Sat in the spare room at 1PP, he knew that he should really start focusing on the trial. But he was still a hunter and a hunter had to save the innocent and kill the monsters.

He just hoped that he would be able to carry on doing so when all of this was over.

Sam’s eyes skimmed the names. 2010, Sara, Mia, Lori, Sherry, Isabelle, Virginia…Lydia. He did a quick calculation. That seemed to fit. Lydia had seemed physically twenty-five after two years alive. She’d now be physically forty-five, if the Amazons aged at the same speed of five years for every one human year, which Sam suspected they might, given that they seemed age fifteen years in two nights and had their own children two years later.

The other girls born on the same day as Emma, the ones who had succeeded in murdering their fathers, were apparently named Lily, Jenny, Melinda, Georgina, Gretchen and Breanna.

2014’s Amazons were numbered at six. Meaning no fellow hunters had gotten them in the years since. Cheryl, Alexis, Delilah, Kimberley, Sierra and Helena. Those would be the girls selecting victims at bars.

Where did the Amazons choose the names for their psychotic bouncing girls, anyway? Did they pick up the movie _Ted_ and flick through the white trash names whenever they ran out? Dean had paused it once and looked at the subtitles, only to find he had had sex with girls with quite a lot of those names. Sometimes more than one. Sam, of course, had pointed out that half of the names weren’t white trash, some were much older than most people would think and anyway, it depended on personality rather than their name. Dean had responded by chugging down beer and wondering if any of his latest hookups had any of the selected names.

One of the superiors, a Caroline, had been one of the names of the ‘superiors’ that signed the 2010 list had apparently also signed the 2014 list. Maybe Caroline was the one that Nicky had contact with?

Maybe Caroline was special. She possibly be the one who kept up the Amazon lore. Maybe Caroline was immortal or semi-immortal and the Amazons ever since had been her descendants.

Sam felt his stomach churn. It was one thing to become a vampire or a witch and outlive your children. It was another to have hundreds, thousands of generations who would die within a dozen years while you lived forever. This was new to Sam and quite sickening.

There was a knock at the door. "Sam? It's Rollins. Benson said you needed my help?"

"Oh, yeah, the list," Sam pushed himself up, "Coming."

He opened the door and handed the list to Amanda, along with the pictures of the Amazon group from the parking lot. “It’s not that much, but it could work. They seemed to be in the Lincoln Square part. The bars' addresses are from that area.”

Amanda sighed. “Thanks, Sam. Do you know how many bars there are in Lincoln Square?” Sam shrugged and she told him, tilting her head and giving a sympathetic smile. “Eight. But yeah – I’ll try.”

Nicky had put the whispers everywhere. In the ears of the men and women already selected for the jury. To the reporters sitting at their desks. To the prosecution lawyer. The words were printed on their newspapers and slipping inside their minds.

Find the brothers guilty.

Those words were scattered all around them without them noticing. Sometimes the reporters would look back at sentences upon noticing that there were grammatical errors. But these errors caused them to see the message meant for them.

The Winchesters will be found guilty.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter has taken a long time to write. I have been rather busy and exhausted myself quite frequently.
> 
> By the way, when I mentioned various names in the last chapter, I do not think that those names were white trash. Most of them, at any rate. I pick names for my characters from behindthename.com in a random name generator. I go through the combinations, find one that doesn't sound too ridiculous that takes my fancy, then use that for a character.
> 
> I think there will be two more chapters after this one. But I am unsure, although I have planned out what the ending will be. I think that I will have this story finished before the last few episodes of _Supernatural_ air, though.
> 
> If you think about it, with the current pandemic and social and political climate and the mess that everything is bound to be, both _Supernatural_ and _Criminal Minds_ ended or are ending just in time (although I personally think they should have both ended at Season Eleven). It would be difficult to hop around the country with quarantining and increased health measures. It will be interesting to see how shows in the 2020s will tackle this problem.
> 
> Whenever an episode would involve going to multiple locations in a short space of time, I would wonder how much gas the brothers were using. Do they have a magic gas tank?

The courtroom was packed.

People from all over wanted a piece of the action. Reporters, psychiatrists, conspiracy theorists, the list went on.

Dean and Sam were sat at a desk, with a lawyer between them. A nervous-looking man of about fifty with spiky graying hair and sweaty hands had introduced himself as Gregson and had sat down between them.

They had already met Gregson a few hours before the trial so that they could be briefed. “I have to tell you boys,” he had sighed as he opened up his briefcase, “You should have gone for the insanity plea.”

“But we’re not insane,” Sam pointed out, “A lot of people said that we aren’t insane.”

“Well, yes,” Gregson fumbled with the papers, “But if we can prove that you were brainwashed then we might have the both of you placed in psychiatric facilities. Believe me,” he sighed, “it’s the best I can do with the pile of accusations against you.”

“And what about people who said that we were helping them?” Sam asked. Gregson gave a low whistle.

“Well, that’s a whole other story,” he admitted, “But since there is no possibility of corroborating evidence between separate parties, chances are that this speaks towards you believing that you helped them, rather than behaving manically.”

He glanced between them and sat back. “I have no idea what Agent Hotchner sees in you, but if even an FBI agent says that you can be trusted, I suppose it might be so.”

He didn’t look too comfortable when he said that, Dean noticed. Whatever the outcome, a lot of people were going to be left miserable.

Now the trial had started and Dean thought that he would rather have a pack of hellhounds chasing him through thorns whilst naked and smeared in lemon juice. One look at Sam and he knew that his brother felt something similar.

The trial had begun.

The preceding judge already seemed tired and looked as if he wanted to get away quickly. But the sheer amount of evidence – both for and against the brothers – was going to be put forward and it was not enjoyable for anyone.

“This is a rather unusual trial,” the judge had said, “since the crimes that the two defendants are accused of have taken place all over the country. But as they have a habit of managing to escape, we are going to try them here.”

He addressed the brothers. “Samuel and Dean Winchester, you are accusing of murder, attempted murder, kidnapping, rape, grave desecration, grave robbery, fraud, impersonation of FBI agents, impersonation of police and credit card theft. How do you plead?”

The lawyer spoke for them. “Not guilty by reason of insanity.”

There were hushed whispers around the courtroom. The judge leaned forward in his chair. “By reason of insanity?”

“Yes,” the lawyer nodded, “Due to an upbringing brought about by brainwashing, physical and psychological torture and childhood sexual abuse, all of which were copied onto their victims.”

Sam closed his eyes and groaned silently. Dean glared at the lawyer, slightly annoyed that this was the only guy in the room that was on their side.

The judge frowned. “You do realize that you shall have to prove this alleged insanity?”

“We have plenty of evidence, Your Honor,” the lawyer acknowledged.

“We accept the plea,” the judge banged his gavel, “Bring forward the evidence.”

It had already been several hours. The judge had asked for character witnesses for the boys. While the testimonies from all over the country mainly repeated the same story – that the brothers had saved them – the key evidence would be someone in person.

Which meant that the defense lawyer took a gamble.

He stood in front of Castiel, the angel sitting in the witness box and staring into space. “Mr Novak –“

“My name is Castiel,” the angel bluntly told him, “I am the Angel of Saturday.”

Gregson pursed his lips and nodded slowly, mulling over in his mind exactly what the angel had said. “OK then,” he tried again, “’Castiel’, when did you first meet Dean Winchester?”

“I pulled him out from the darkest regions of Hell, where he had been suffering for the last thirty years. In Hell, ten years pass for every one month up on Earth. I was instructed to bring his soul back to his body because he was –“

“Cas!” Dean interrupted.

“Objection!” the judge banged his gavel, “Carry on, Mr Novak.”

“As I have told this man, my name is Castiel,” The angel was a little frustrated at being ignored, “I am an Angel of the Lord.”

Gregson tried to work some sense of the witness by asking, “Could you please tell the court where on Earth itself you met Dean Winchester?”

Castiel paused. Then he answered, “Sioux Falls, South Dakota, September the twentieth 2008.”

The lawyer gave an inward sigh. At least they were getting somewhere. “And how long did you stay with the brothers after that?”

“I did not stay with them,” Castiel answered, “I was needed elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?”

“I had to work with the other angels.”

“And can you give us the names of these angels?” the lawyer tried, “Or their…vessels?”

Castiel knew that he wanted to try and show that the brothers were good men. “I was working with the Archangel Uriel when I next met the Winchester brothers. We were ordered by God to destroy a small town before a demon could rise on Halloween night. But Dean argued with us and said that there were innocent people living in this place. The demon rose and killed some humans, but the Winchesters were able to slay said demon and therefore protected the town. They are not murderers. They are kind-hearted and I am glad to be by their sides.”

The lawyer looked over to the judge for help. Then he cleared his throat.

“Your Honor, I am afraid that the witness has a history of schizophrenia and I am rather skeptical as to if he should even be allowed in the witness stand.”

Castiel wondered if he should perhaps act more human. Maybe then they wouldn’t suspect that ‘James Novak’ had schizophrenia.

“There are many witnesses in numerous cases that the brothers have saved and can testify that they are not killers.” Castiel then attempted a smile to seal the deal.

Dean placed his head in his hands.

The bar was crowded. Barba took a slug of beer, knowing that the case before him was going to be hectic. They were already two days in and he hadn’t even been called yet to affirm that Sergeant Benson’s squad were credible witnesses. Though for which side, he had no idea. To make things even more complicated, it seemed that whatever prowess the brothers had seemed to have worked on Olivia the last time they were in NYPD custody.

Barba thought that Olivia was a smart woman. So how could she have fallen for these guys? Were they hypnotists? It seemed garbage, but at this point, he’d swallow any defense.

“Lonely night?” the black-haired woman asked from the stool next to him. Barba nodded, swallowing his drink.

“Yeah. Could say that.”

The woman moved closer. Barba felt slight unnerved. This woman looked around to be in her twenties. He was a much older and respectable lawyer. He knew that he shouldn’t try to seem intimate.

But it worked.

Because the Amazon knew it had to.

“You have a name?” she asked him.

“Rafael,” he answered.

She grinned. “Interesting. Where’s it from?”

“It’s – it’s Italian,” Barba stammered, loosening his tie.

“I like Italian,” the woman chuckled, “Mine’s Helena. It’s Latin. So I would say that we go together.”

Barba gave a smirk, despite the circumstances. “Look, I’m really busy right now so could I –“

“Hey, barkeep!” Helena called out, “Two Cosmopolitans. On me.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to –“ Barba began, but then he paused. He was here for a party, after all. He wasn’t exactly a young man anymore and if someone like Helena was interested in him, then so be it.

Twelve hours and a lot of manpower later, Fin sat in the car outside of the motel. He’d already gone ahead to the address that Olivia had given him and was waiting for the Amazons to return.

“Are you sure about this?” Carisi asked from the passenger seat.

“Yeah,” Fin replied, “Trust me when I say the supernatural’s real.”

Carisi licked his lip. “I – I just have a few doubts about all this,” the younger cop explained.

Fin nodded in sympathy, “I know what you mean. But if the brothers are right and these women start expanding their bellies in the next couple of days, you’ll know.”

Carisi still wasn’t sure that he did. But if the Sergeant said that these women were planning on killing random men that they’d found at bars, he had to arrest them.

Two women were approaching the room that Benson had pointed out earlier. “OK, let’s move,” Fin opened the door, “Police! Hands where I can see them!”

The two Amazons stopped in their tracks. They held their hands up, a little surprised that what was happening. Both women glanced back towards the room where they had been heading.

“On the ground!” Carisi yelled, still a little unsure of himself.

The door opened with a bang. A tall blonde woman stood there with her nails tapping on the wood. Nicky raised an eyebrow at them.

“I expected hunters,” she placed her hands in her jeans pockets, “Police?” She sneered. “You’re not worth it.”

Carisi fixed his gun on her, but Nicky made a swooping motion with her fingers and it flew out of his hand. Carisi stared down at his hands and back up at her.

He suddenly felt very, very afraid.

“Send a boy to do a hunter’s job,” she laughed, “You really are useless.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still a cop,” Carisi said more to himself than Nicky, “And – and you’re still under arrest.”

Nicky tilted her head, walking closer. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, have you? All you cops are pathetic. To be fair,” she lowered her voice, “I preferred the other Italian. His mind was putty in my hands by the time I’d finished with him.”

Before Carisi could ask her what she had meant, Fin’s gun cocked. Nicky didn’t move. Instead, she raised her hands slowly and then opened up her right palm. She threw down the yellow powder inside her hand and vanished in a flash of light.

When the wind had subsided and they were alone in the parking lot, the terrified Amazons still face down on the concrete, Fin asked Carisi, “You believe now?”

He nodded, giving a gulp as he did so.

Carisi certainly believed in the supernatural now.

Five Amazons had been arrested by daybreak.

Olivia was just heading home when the last one was dragged in by the arm, swearing and snarling at Rollins like a dog. Rollins’ hair was out of its ponytail and she had a long scratch down her cheek.

“Found her at the _White Lady_ ,” Rollins sighed as soon as she had taken the Amazon downstairs, “Took me an hour to get her out without hurting anyone.”

“Amanda, your cheek –“ Olivia pointed out. Rollins shrugged.

“I had to jump over a table to tackle her. Trust me, I’ve had worse perps than her.”

“That’s five so far,” Olivia said, “You couldn’t find the last one?” Rollins shook her head.

“The other one had left by the time I got there,” she told the Sergeant, “How are the brothers?”

“I’m going to call their lawyer,” Olivia nodded, “I know it’s against the rules, but hey, we’ve just locked up a bunch of angry, pregnant patricidal monsters in the interrogation rooms, so I’m ready to do anything.”

Rollins gave a low chuckle. Olivia followed suit. Then Carisi staggered into the room.

“Carisi,” Olivia addressed him, “Have we converted you yet?”

“I’m a believer,” he rested his hand on the nearest desk, “They’re starting to show. Won’t talk, though. They’re swearing a lot. English, Latin, even stuff I don’t know. What now?”

“At the very least I should get the girls clothes for the next three days,” Rollins crossed her arms, “I’ll probably just get some of my t-shirts from home and they’ll grow into them.”

“As for the Winchesters,” Olivia frowned, “The videotapes are going to shown in the next few days. Have we found anything that might render them invalid?”

Rollins and Carisi both shook their heads. Olivia sighed, leaning back against the desk.

“We’re going to need a miracle.”

By the time that Caroline got back to the temporary headquarters (she seemed to notice how all warehouses looked the same) she only found Helena, lying down on a mattress as she held both hands on her swollen belly. Nicky was crouching beside her, a hand on her shoulder.

“Where’s everyone else?” Caroline was taken aback.

“Cops found them all. Looks like we only got _numero uno_.”

“But they’ll give birth by midday!” Caroline complained and stomped her foot in rage. Nicky thought that she looked like Bethany when she did that. It wasn’t something that she expected a four-thousand-year-old monster to do. “We have to find them!”

“We know where they are,” Nicky reminded her, “We can rescue them.”

Caroline wanted to point out that before the trial had started the brothers had probably warded the place. Plus the cops were all highly respected for a reason. But for the moment she had bigger fish to fry.

“Right,” Caroline knelt down and put an arm around Helena’s back as the Amazon huffed, “We need to work with what we’ve got.”

“Are you sure you can’t hold on?” Nicky asked, backing into a corner and looking squeamish. She may be a literal cold-hearted witch but childbirth always made her uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” Caroline answered, putting her arm around Helena’s back, “It’s okay, honey, just breathe.”

“Oh Chuck,” Nicky muttered under her breath.


	8. Chapter 8

The five Amazons were already in holding cells. Three of them were heavily pregnant and could give birth at any second. If Amanda thought that tonight had been weird, it was going to look like a horror movie by dawn.

“They age pretty quickly,” Dean had mumbled when Amanda had spoken to him on the station’s landline, “They’ll go from babies to mini assassins in eighteen hours. By the time thirty-six hours are up, you’ll have fifteen-year-olds on your hands and then it just goes much slower.”

Amanda shook her head and managed a worn smile as she looked down at the floor. “I have a new baby at home. Technically I should be on maternity leave. I guess this is what people mean when they say your kids grow up too fast.”

She gave a small chuckle. “I know some people spend their whole lives in prison but this is ridiculous.”

She heard Dean chuckle on the other end. He asked her, “Any luck on finding the last one?”

Amanda sighed. “I’m sorry. We did everything that we could. How is the trial going?”

Dean snorted. “Our lawyer thinks we’re insane, the prosecution thinks we’re scum and the judge thinks that we’re brainwashed.”

“That bad, huh?” Amanda asked.

She heard a groan from the other end. “Our lawyer said that he’s showing the videotapes tomorrow. He’s trying to show that we’ve been brainwashed. He said that it’s to convince the jury that we didn’t understand what we were doing when we supposedly killed people. Where is that psychopathic witch, anyway?”

“I have no clue,” Amanda told him, “She left the motel. We can’t find her.”

“She’s probably wherever the Amazons were supposed to hole up,” Dean informed Amanda, “Find the final Amazon and her daughter, you’ll find Caroline and Nicky.”

“I know,” Amanda sighed, before thanking him and hanging up. She ran her palms down over her nose and mouth, wondering how on Earth she was going to do that.

By dinner the next generation of Amazons were old enough to walk and talk. Amanda and Carisi had gone down to simultaneously check up on them and attempt an interrogation.

“So, err, how exactly do you guys work?” Carisi asked, sitting across from Delilah at the table. Delilah’s daughter, now physically three or four, had curly blonde hair that looked very different from her mother’s dark features. Maybe the girls took after their fathers. That was something that Carisi decided to keep in mind.

Delilah crossed her arms and glared at him. “You really want to know? Why should I tell you? You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourselves into, prick. You’re not even a hunter.”

“Have you ever considered life outside of the Amazons?”

Delilah gave a snort. “Not really. Why should I? In the Amazons, we’re protected from the evils of men.”

“When you say ‘men’, do you mean males or the human race?”

“Both,” Delilah pushed herself up, “We can defend ourselves. Amazons are not like human women. We’re strong enough to protect ourselves. _And_ our daughters. You deal with men who hurt women, officer. Why should I trust you?”

Carisi had no idea whether Delilah was simply a misandrist or genetically bred like that.

He just hoped that Amanda was having better luck than him.

Amanda’s eyes kept flicking between gum-chewing Kimberley and her daughter sitting on the floor, playing with the officer’s car keys.

She asked Kimberley, “Do you have the address of where your friend –“ Amanda checked the list, “Helena would be?”

Kimberley narrowed her eyes. “Why would I tell you?”

Amanda placed her hands flat on the table. “Kimberley, I understand that you’re scared and that you’ve been brought up to distrust anyone who isn’t an Amazon. I know that you killed your father and you want your daughter to kill hers. But when we find Helena, we’re not going to punish her. Or her daughter. Her daughter hasn’t even done anything wrong yet. We have to find her before she does.”

“And where are you going to put us?” Kimberley argued.

Amanda folded her hands. “Well, we – we thought that we might find somewhere isolated. Somewhere where you can’t hurt anyone.”

“You mean you want to send us to prison?”

“No. Nothing like that. If you co-operate, that is,” Amanda informed her, “Somewhere out in Long Island, or upstate. Surrounded by nature. That’s what the first Amazons did, didn’t they?”

Kimberley looked away from the officer. She didn’t look as if she would agree any time soon.

"Why do they age up fifteen years in one night?" Amanda asked Kimberley, "Why not twelve or thirteen? Those were significant numbers in the ancient world."

"Fifteen was the age that a boy became a man in ancient Greece," Kimberley told her, "When I was born and grew, I joked that I had had a rough sweet sixteen. But that's because that's the age America seems to celebrate. And besides, I'm not Hispanic so a _quinceanera_ wouldn't make sense."

Amanda pushed herself up. “Listen, your daughter’s getting taller. She needs to wear something other than a diaper.” She started to pull out a shirt from underneath her own and knelt down in front of the girl.

“Don’t you dare touch Ava!” Kimberley shouted, getting up from her chair. But Amanda had started pulling the girl’s head through the neck of the shirt.

When she gave a small smile at the small Hispanic girl, the toddler gave a giggle in response.

Even though Kimberley picked up her daughter and held her close, Amanda felt as if she had gotten somewhere.

Since Olivia had wanted to keep an eye on the Amazons, she had them moved to the holding cells and diverted all foot traffic downstairs, under the pretense of a burst water main. She didn’t want anyone coming in and asking why a group of minors were in the holding cells used for drunks.

The girls were walking by themselves now, asking their mothers why they hadn’t gone out for their instructions yet. The girls were now all identifiable, which Olivia thought could be useful in tracking down their fathers. Of the five mini murderesses, three were Caucasian, one was Hispanic and one was Mongolian. They now looked about seven or eight years old.

All of them were glaring at her with contempt. The same look that all of the mothers were giving her.

Olivia noticed that the girls weren’t even wearing proper clothing. All were wearing white shirts with rolled-up sleeves and large pleated skirts.

When Rollins had handed the girls the shirts, the mothers had simply glared at her. Only Ava had managed a 'thank you' and a grin.

Rollins had responded with a smile. Kimberley had held her daughter close. "Don't be too pleased," she had sneered, "She thinks you're one of us. This is not how she should be brought up."

Rollins had told Olivia that she suspected Ava had been kind because she had faintly remembered her from downstairs. Maybe for the first thirty-six hours of life their memories worked in the same way as a normal child's.

What were they going to do with them, Olivia asked herself. They couldn’t exactly keep the Amazons locked away indefinitely. The children had done nothing wrong. True, they had the instruction planted inside them – perhaps drummed into their heads through their blood, like transferring a computer virus.

And just like a computer virus, although none of these girls had done anything yet they were too dangerous to be set loose.

“I think they aged a year since lunchtime,” Rollins turned a page of her book without even looking up, “They’re going to need bras by dinner. I don’t think we have any.”

Olivia asked if all of the fathers had been tracked down. Rollins nodded, handing her superior the iPad.

“All but one,” she sighed.

Olivia looked between the pictures of the fathers and the children behind the bars. “I guess we don’t have enough time for DNA testing,” she said, “And it’s out of the question to try and ask for parental permission.”

There was a snigger from the third cell. The mother of the Mongolian Amazon was gripping on the bars, her head sticking between them. She was smiling horribly.

Olivia looked down at Rollins’ list. “Alexis, is it?” she asked, strolling up.

The Amazon nodded her head, her tongue licking her teeth in an apparent sexy move. It was a very poor attempt.

“What’s funny, Alexis? Because I don’t think any of this is funny. If we don’t lock you away, the hunters will know what to do.”

“Hunters,” Alexis snorted, “They ruined Lydia’s life, do you know that? Amazons don’t live very long – not our bloodline, anyway – which makes her misery all the more depressing.”

“You could get out,” Olivia responded, “You don’t have to be evil.”

“The Amazons hate men,” Alexis snarled, “You’re a cop. And a pretty high-ranking one as well.” Alexis tilted her head. “You must have put up with a lot from guys who thought they were better than you. It’s not Ancient Greece anymore. But it’s still a bad place for women.”

“And that justifies cutting off your dad’s hands and feet?” Olivia asked sarcastically.

Alexis shrugged. “It’s a magical instinct. Like the salmon. They know which riverbed to go to because their parents came from there.”

Rollins reminded herself never to eat salmon again.

Alexis smiled down at her girl and pulled her close, one hand still holding the bars. “Megan here is going to cut her father’s hands and feet off and kill him. He shouldn’t have had sex with a strange woman. After all, that’s what generations of prostitutes do.”

“So now you’re comparing yourself to a prostitute?” Rollins asked.

Alexis cupped Megan’s cheek. “You still didn’t get one of us. And it’s a pity you didn’t find this one in particular, ‘Sergeant’.”

Olivia tensed, but tried not to look afraid. She had taken down tougher criminals than this. “Why?”

“Because I saw the inside of his wallet when he and Helena shared a room. He’s in your court case. Oh, the Winchesters are dead meat now.”

Olivia paced back over to the desk and had a look at the names. “Helena, Helena…says here she hit the _White Lady_. Rollins, call everyone on the case –“

“Liv,” Rollins put a hand up to stop her, “Barba was at the _White Lady_.”

Olivia felt all of the blood drain from her face and started heading out the door.

Fin came in just as Olivia left. “Where’s the list of names?” he asked.

“Right here,” Rollins passed it over, “Names for the moms are here and the girls are right here. All those present are ticked.”

Fin took a look at the names. “Megan, Daphne, Peggy, Ava, Georgia. This one, Claudia, her mom wasn’t caught?”

Rollins slowly shook her head. “Yeah. And I’ve got a pretty good idea of who the dad is.”

Before Fin could ask, Kimberley called out, twisting her arms around the bars “Hey, cop! Wanna see me dance? We’re bored and it’s so hot in here.” She gave a snigger.

Fin shot her a scowl. “I prefer to keep my hands and feet, thanks.”

“So, Miss…”

“Nicky Melrose,” the witch answered the prosecution lawyer as she sat in the witness box.

When Nicky had entered the courtroom, the boys felt as if they were stuck. Nicky definitely looked the part with her blonde hair up in a bun and a pink checked outfit that made Dean think she resembled a cross between Dorothy Gale and Dolores Umbridge. Sam thought that she seemed innocent and nonthreatening to the jury. But now the cold-hearted witch was going to spew a whole pack of lies.

“Nicky,” the prosecution addressed her, using kid gloves due to the information he had been provided, “It says here that until 2012 you resided in a cult in Washington State, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Nicky lied.

“And that is the cult where you met Sam and Dean Winchester in 1983, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Nicky nodded, glancing at the brothers, “I remember the day they arrived.”

The prosecution blinked. “Miss Melrose, how old are you? You written statement from the police station where you reported to also says that you remember the boys arriving, but you don’t appear to be older than your early thirties. The incident in question was thirty-two years ago.”

Nicky froze. While Nicky appeared to be young, the brothers wondered for the first time how old she actually was. Tiffany may have been about twenty-five and Bethany roughly ten years younger than that, but they weren’t sure how old Nicky was. She might be in her early thirties, but then again they had seen witches live for centuries.

Now that Sam thought about it, there had been no parents in the picture. Tiffany and Bethany might not have been Nicky’s _sisters_ at all.

Maybe that was why she had been friendly with Caroline.

Nicky shifted in her seat. “I – well, I have a long memory.”

The prosecutor nodded, though it appeared as if he didn’t quite believe her. “And you say that you have a video of the boys marrying your sisters? Rita and Lydia?”

Nicky nodded a second time, confident again. “That is true. I have several videotapes.”

“And this videotape is from 1994, is that correct, Miss Melrose?”

“It was filmed on November 2nd 1994,” Nicky lied.

“And at that time, the defendants were fifteen and eleven years old respectively, is that correct?”

“It is,” Nicky answered, “Lydia married Dean and Rita married Sam.”

The prosecutor turned to the jury. “I would like to remind the jury that the age of consent in Washington State is sixteen years old and therefore this wedding would have been illegal. Miss Melrose, please state for the court how old your sisters were at the time.”

Nicky frowned for a second. She knew that it was the prosecutor’s job to try and catch her in a lie. But with a lie as big as this one it was difficult to remember what she had said.

“Lydia was twenty and Rita was nineteen.”

“Your Honor,” the prosecutor faced him, “this would not count as statutory.”

The judge asked him, worn out from the proceedings already, “Why are you questioning the witness about two women who are not on trial here and according to statements provided have been deceased for several years?”

“I just wanted to provide the Winchesters’ state of mind when they committed the crimes that they have been accused of. Out of their known victims, the majority have been women in their twenties and thirties. There are gaps in the Winchesters’ childhoods where their whereabouts are unaccounted for, as well as gaps in 2010 and 2012 where no crimes appear to have been committed. If they have a ‘base’ or somewhere to go back to, if in the eyes of the cult they were married to the witness’ sisters then it stands to reason that they had significant others to go back to.”

The judge considered the argument. “I will allow it.”

Sam and Dean inwardly groaned.

At this rate they’d be in a psychiatric ward by sundown.

Olivia was outside Barba’s apartment. She told herself that he had acted completely stupid if he had decided to have a one-night stand with a much younger woman at a club. That was the sort of thing that had got Cragen in heaps in trouble!

Banging loudly on the door, she wondered if she should try his number again. “Barba!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. Banging on the door again, her stomach lurched as she thought of the possibility that she was too late.

She heard footsteps coming close. Olivia felt under her jacket for her gun.

The door opened and a hungover Barba answered. “Olivia?” he asked sleepily, “W-What are you doing here?” He gave a groan. “I’m not needed at the courthouse now, am I?”

“No,” Olivia shook her head, “But you’re in danger.”

“Danger? Danger from what?” he mumbled, still tired.

“I can’t explain right now. We have to get you to the station.”

“Olivia, what are you talking about?” Barba asked as they entered and he picked up his keys.

“That woman from the bar?” Olivia asked him. Barba nodded, puzzled.

“She’s dangerous. And she’s going to kill you. Well, not her – her daughter –“

“Daughter?” Barba was confused, “She looked twenty-five.”

“She’s not. Trust me,” Olivia shook her head, “she’s not. Listen – I know this is going to sound crazy, but unless you come down to the station and keep a very close eye on some suspects for me, you’re not going to believe me. And I – I don’t want to lose another friend.”

Barba pursed his lips. “OK, I’m coming. Let me get changed.”

“We don’t know when she’s coming. We have to go _now_.”


	9. Chapter 9

When Olivia had brought Barba to the station, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the Amazons hadn’t entered puberty yet.

“OK,” she told Barba, drawing up a chair, “just sit here and watch.”

“Watch what?” Barba slowly asked, puzzled, “Why are there a bunch of minors in the holding cells?”

“You won’t believe a word I say unless you see it for yourself,” Olivia looked him in the eye, “But trust me when I say that they are very dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Barba didn’t understand how these children could possibly be a threat, “How old are they?”

“Well,” Olivia saw no reason to beat about the bush, “the girls were literally born this morning and the moms are two years old.”

Barba blinked. “Sorry?”

“Please, just trust me when I say this –“ Olivia pleaded, but she was interrupted by one of the Amazons.

Cheryl, the mother of the brunette Amazon Georgia, was holding onto the bars and tilted her head. “Hey, Alexis, isn’t that the guy you and Helena met at the _White Lady_?”

Alexis gave a smirk. “It is!” she squealed, “Which hopefully means that Claudia’s on her way!”

Barba paused before he pointed his finger at Alexis and told Olivia, “I saw her when I was drinking.” Then he remembered. “She and Helena left together.”

“That’s right, lawyer,” Alexis crossed her arms. Megan, staring up at her mother, did the same.

“Why – why are they locked up?” Barba was getting frustrated. As was Olivia.

“Watch them,” she gabbled as she turned and made her way to the door, “When they grow breasts, you’ll believe me. And don’t leave!”

Barba’s eyes glanced between the front door and the holding cells in front of him. He was tired, dizzy and very, very confused.

Around an hour later, still bewildered by the whole situation and slightly embarrassed to be at 1PP in his dressing gown, Barba asked a question.

He was unsure if the women in the cells would answer him, though. All they had done since he had arrived was glare at him or Rollins, Carisi or Fin if they went past. Aside from the Hispanic girl. She giggled whenever Rollins came close, followed by a snarl from the woman he presumed was her mother. At least, Barba thought that she was her mother. She didn’t look anything like the child but she was fiercely protective of her.

“Who exactly are you?” he asked.

Only one of the women was standing. Or rather, leaning her back against the bars. The others were sitting or lying down, bored.

This woman, whose skin was the same shade as Doctor Huang’s, turned around to face the lawyer.

“Amazons. Didn’t your dear friend Sergeant Benson tell you that?” she answered with a scowl.

“Amazons?” Barba asked, “As in the Ancient Greeks?” He paused. “Are you all related?”

He knew that it was unlikely that a group of women who appeared to be the same age were related, but the way that they acted made it unlikely that they were a sorority or club or anything outside of a street gang or other violent types. Then he asked why they were in here.

The woman snorted. “I killed my father. We’re Amazons. We all kill our fathers.”

“You killed your father? When?” Barba knew that they shouldn’t ask questions without a lawyer present, but as he was a lawyer, he supposed that he could bend the rules slightly if SVU had already arrested them on those charges.

“Two years ago,” the woman sighed, “We all did. We all killed our fathers the day after we were born.”

“Shut up, Sierra!” Kimberley stood up, “Do you want to let the cops win?”

Sierra snapped back, “Well if we’re in this mess, they’ve already won! Peggy can’t kill her dad because I’m certain that they found him!”

“Sorry, what are you saying?” Barba frowned, once again confused.

Sierra pulled the redhead child close. “My Peggy,” she explained to Barba, “can’t kill her dad now because your cop friends locked us up in here.” She stroked her daughter’s cheek. “They’ll never be accepted as Amazons now.”

“That’s your daughter?” Barba couldn’t understand how an East Asian woman could have a girl with red hair, pale skin and freckles. He didn’t know much about genetics, but he was sure that if the father had those but the mother was of another race then the child would resemble the mother.

Before he could ask anything else, Ava tugged at her mother’s sleeve.

“Mom, I think I need a bra now.”

“I hate this,” Olivia was crouched in front of Barba’s couch, eyes fixed on the front door, as she spoke to the brothers on speakerphone, “The Amazons won’t help. They’re all man-haters.” She gave a sigh. “I think I preferred the angry lesbians.”

“Angry lesbians?” Dean sounded interested.

Olivia heard a groan. “Not now, Dean,” Sam interrupted, “Sergeant, I told you – one bullet stops them dead in their tracks.”

“But I don’t want to have to kill a child.” Olivia argued. Even if said child was hell-bent on killing one of her friends.

She paused. “Can’t I – change her, somehow? End the brainwashing?”

Dean breathed through his teeth. “I’m not sure. It’s literally in their DNA to kill their fathers. I – I did believe Emma, though. When she said that she wanted to run away with me.”

There was silence for a brief moment before he continued.

“I – Emma was lying. She knew somehow that we were hunters. So she lied instead of shooting me first. With – what’s her name?”

Olivia thought for a second. “Claudia. The paper said Claudia.”

“Well, with Claudia, I would say go with what your gut tells you.”

“Does that always work?” Olivia asked.

“Sure,” she could tell that Dean was grinning as he said that, “My gut’s – it’s usually right.”

“It’s never empty, either,” she heard Sam mutter under his breath.

The court had been called back into session. Nicky was sitting in the witness box as the wedding videotape played. Although she acted remorseful and saddened, the brothers knew that she was feeling smug inside. The video had been examined using human methods and had been declared genuine.

The brothers knew that there were anachronisms, however. The trees in the background hadn’t been that tall in 1994, according to Benson and her team when they had tracked the address online. But that hadn’t been enough for them to even submit this as an argument.

When the video had finished playing, the prosecutor looked at Nicky. “And the girl shown on the video is Emma, right?”

Nicky nodded, head bowed. “Yes, sir.”

“And this was –“ the lawyer examined his notes, “2002?”

“Yes,” Nicky glanced up at him, “It was March 2002.”

Then she added, shifting in her seat, “Rita loved Sam, but, well,” she twisted the fingers on her left hand as she spoke, looking down at them for a second before turning her attention back to the prosecutor, “She left for a while around the time this video was filmed. That’s why she didn’t say goodbye.”

“And why is that?” the prosecutor asked, “Is it something to do with Jessica Moore?” He turned to the jury. “For the record, Jessica Moore was the woman that Sam Winchester was engaged to when she was killed in November 2005.”

Nicky looked the prosecutor in the eye, clasping her hands out of view of anyone else.

“Sam also fancied another woman from the cult. I have to admit, I feel guilty at this. I was jealous that Rita had such a strong relationship with him. So I asked another woman to put a love spell on him.”

“Is this really necessary?” the judge asked, but Nicky was on a roll.

She quickly swung her head to face the brothers.

“She lived with him for six months. I suggested to her to cast the spell so that he would never leave. As punishment for what they had done to the Amazons.”

Before anyone could ask what she meant, Nicky gripped the edges of the box, her nails digging into the wood and leaving marks.

“Remember her, Sam? Remember beautiful Amelia?”

A collective chill ran down the brothers’ spines. Sam slowly stood up, despite the judge instructing him to sit back down.

“You’re lying.” Sam breathed heavily, telling himself not to believe her.

Nicky smiled. “For once Sam, I’m telling the truth. Remember how you felt for her after taking your first drink with her? How she offered you that very same drink every night?”

Everything happened so fast that it was hard to work out afterwards exactly what went on.

Sam had jumped over the table and ran towards the witness box, yelling, “You bitch! I’ll kill you!” He had gripped his hands around Nicky’s throat for only a split second before two guards had wrestled him away. Dean was now standing, shouting for Sam to stop, the defense lawyer trying his best to push the older Winchester back into his seat. The guards managed to tug Sam to the floor and tasered him before placing him in handcuffs. All the while the judge was banging his gavel and calling for order.

The judge bellowed, “Court is adjourned! I demand a new jury be found and we shall reassess the case at said time! For the meantime, the two defendants are to be placed in separate cells and I ask that if the witness has any more evidence she should submit it in writing. That is all for today!”

All Sam could think about was that when he had placed his hands around Nicky’s throat, she had been cackling.

Olivia heard the news from Rollins as soon as the younger officer could pass on the message.

“That means the insanity defense is off the table,” Rollins sighed, “No-one will believe that they’re innocent. Sam really went off the rails.”

Her superior lay back against the couch and groaned. “We can’t do anything else for them, can we?”

Rollins felt a lump in her throat as she answered. “No. I don’t think we can.”

“We’ll get them out,” Olivia promised, more to Rollins than herself, “We have to.”

Before Rollins could say anything else, Olivia heard footsteps coming from outside. Turning her head, she whispered, “I’ll call you back,” and watched as the door handle slowly opened.

As soon as it did, Olivia shot up, gun aimed at the figure in the doorway as they made their way in.

Olivia took a good look at the young woman standing in the front room.

She could definitely see Barba in the Amazon. She had the same dark hair, broad shoulders and determined scowl. The only major difference was that she was shorter and her hair was longer with a fringe.

Olivia stood up straight, ready to fight if things went haywire. “Claudia, is it?” she asked.

Claudia nodded. “I’m here to kill Rafael Barba.” She spoke in the same way she would have if she were deciding on what toppings she wanted on her pizza.

Olivia shook her head. “I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s what I was born to do.” Claudia interjected.

Olivia pursed her lips and nodded. “I know. That’s what you were told. But he’s not here.”

“Then tell me where he is.” Claudia was slowly getting angrier.

“Somewhere where you won’t be able to get him.” Olivia answered.

Claudia smirked. “He’s at the precinct, isn’t he?”

“Surrounded by witnesses. You won’t be able to kill him. I won’t let you. He’s my friend; I’m not going to lose any more of them.”

The corner of Claudia’s mouth turned upward. “I expected that you might help him. But remember, officer, I am an Amazon,” she started to produce a knife from behind her back, “and just as capable as you in a fight.”

Olivia knew that she could shoot now. But that still meant a young woman would be found dead in a building filled with witnesses. A young woman whose death could not be explained. Another young woman that would spend eternity lying in a grave in a potter’s field, unidentified because she _could_ never be identified.

Olivia was fast. Instead of aiming her gun straight at Claudia, she shot towards the wall above her. Claudia jumped and Olivia rammed her into the wall, punching her wrist so as to force the Amazon to let go of the knife. Claudia gave out a yell as Olivia dragged her to the ground. Kicking and screaming, the Amazon was pinned down and tried to claw at the older woman’s face. She attempted to knee Olivia in the stomach, but Olivia grabbed Claudia’s forearms and shoved them into the wooden floor.

Claudia, however, was strong. Pushing back against Olivia, she was on her feet again. Olivia grabbed the girl’s ankle and she flew face-first onto the floor. Quick as a flash, Olivia pulled out her pepper spray and hit the Amazon in the eyes. Claudia shrieked as she tried to attack Olivia despite the haze, but Olivia quickly cuffed the girl’s wrists and started dragging her out of the apartment and down the fire exit.

“You, young lady,” Olivia panted, “are going to see your daddy. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

At the precinct, Barba was still staring at the Amazons, bewildered.

Fin came up to him and was about to say something when Barba slowly raised his finger and pointed.

“Those girls’… _breasts_ grew in. They were _ten_ when I arrived but th– they have breasts now. And they’re taller.”

Fin sighed, glancing between the psychopathic young women in the cells and back at the lawyer. “I knew you wouldn’t believe us if we said otherwise.”

“Said what?” Barba felt weak.

The officer explained. “They’re supernatural.”

Barba wondered if he would faint. But he didn’t.

“I think I need a drink,” he told Fin, his voice barely more than a whisper, “A stiff one.”


	10. Chapter 10

Olivia managed to push Claudia through the main doors just after sunrise. If the girl had heard the phrase ‘you have the right to remain silent’, she certainly didn’t exercise that right. She had been arguing and yelling the whole way here.

When she came through the doors, demanding to know where Barba was, all of the Amazons stopped what they were doing and stood up, peering through the bars at the commotion.

As soon as they saw the young Amazon struggling and trying to pull away from Olivia’s steel grip, the other Amazons all started yelling like sports fans, cheering her on despite the situation.

“Hey!” Rollins ran up to the bars, followed by Carisi, “Stop that! Stop that right now!” She banged on the other side of the bars to try and stop the rowdy Amazons, but it didn’t work. Carisi ended up poking a taser through the bars, hitting Delilah in the arm and causing her to crouch on the floor, rubbing it and glaring up at him.

“And the same goes for the rest of you if you don’t shut up!” Carisi snapped at them, trying to get the situation under control.

As they walked away, he whispered to Rollins, “I feel bad about tasing a woman, though.”

“They’re monsters,” Rollins folded her arms, “It’s different.”

Olivia was once again startled by the angel appearing beside her in her office.

“Hello, Sergeant Benson,” Cas looked down at where she was sitting.

Olivia pulled some hair from her face and attempted a smile back at him, but it was difficult with all of the stress weighing down on her. “Same to you,” she managed to reply.

Cas turned his gaze towards the handcuffed Amazon in the seat in front of the desk. “Is this the Amazon that the brothers mentioned?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Olivia stood up, “You’ve – talked to the brothers? They’re in solitary confinement.”

“I am an angel,” Cas reminded her, “I can pass through all human boundaries.”

_Of course,_ Olivia told herself, _Stupid question._

Then she asked, “Why are you here?”

“Sergeant Benson, I need to take you to see the boys to work out how to set them free.” Before Olivia could say a word the angel had touched her shoulder and they flew off.

Rollins opened the door at that moment. She blinked, before glancing down at Claudia’s scowling face.

“Is – Olivia –“

“Angel,” Claudia shrugged, “Where’s Daddy?”

“Well, you’re not seeing him,” Rollins shut the door behind her, locking it.

Maybe it was best to stand guard, the officer thought. Who knew what an enraged Amazon could do?

When Olivia finally regained her bearings, she found herself inside of a steel-walled cell. Both brothers were already in here, Sam sitting with his arms crossed on the bench and Dean slouched on the floor.

“I thought that –“ she began, but Dean nodded towards Castiel.

“I see,” she then addressed Dean, “Do you have a plan?”

Sam sat back against the wall, staring upwards at the ceiling. They were stumped.

“I can’t even begin to think of how we could get out of this mess,” Dean mumbled to himself.

“Surely you must have someone,” Olivia pointed out, “You must know someone who can – magic you out or something.”

Dean grunted. “I hate to burst your bubble, Benson, but the supernatural’s not quite like that. No, we might need to break out. Again.”

Olivia mulled over what Dean had just said. She decided that it was entirely pointless to help them using legal methods, so she simply folded her arms and asked the brothers, “OK. If you think you can.”

“Well, we’ll need help from the outside,” Dean thought aloud.

“Garth?” Sam asked, tilting his head towards his brother.

“Garth would lose his head if it wasn’t nailed on.”

“Crowley?” Sam suggested.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You want to ask Crowley for a favor after what he did last time? He was supposed to scare the Buzzfeed guys by showing them that the supernatural was real. Not frighten the living daylights out of them!”

Sam shrugged. “It was just a thought.”

“Well, remember what he said?” Dean put on a very bad imitation of a Scottish accent. “ _I’m a demon! It’s what we’re supposed to do!_ ”

“How about Jody?” Sam tried.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “She’s in North Dakota last time I checked. We’re being moved tomorrow; she won’t have time.”

“How about Agent Hotchner?”

Dean paused. “I’ll give it a go. Cas, could –“

But before he could finish his sentence, the angel had already flown away.

Olivia asked Dean, “What do I do with the Amazon? How long until they stop wanting to kill?”

Dean breathed out through clenched teeth. “I have no idea. Maybe they don’t want to stop. Maybe if they can’t find the fathers then the other Amazons see them as unworthy.”

“Whatever the answer is,” Olivia leaned against the wall, “we need to get you out of here. I – I don’t want to see good guys being punished for what they didn’t do. But if I can’t prove it in a court of law…” She gave a sigh.

“How many?” Olivia asked Dean.

“How many what?” he asked, confused.

“How many people have you saved?” Olivia wanted to know.

“No idea,” Sam answered for his brother, “But it’s a lot.”

“Hundreds?”

Sam pushed himself up on the bench. “Since I came back into the hunting life, I think we’ve saved over a thousand, minimum. And those are just the ones we met in person.”

A thousand people saved in just a decade. Olivia didn’t know how many she had managed to rescue in her career, but it may be on par with that number if you included victims of broken trafficking rings.

She rubbed her arm nervously. She couldn’t simply stand here and watch the brothers be locked away – executed even – for crimes they hadn’t committed.

“Why don’t you tell me?” she gave a deep breath, “So at least someone else knows about what happened in the – the crimes they’ve accused you of.”

Dean was more open to explain than Sam was, she found.

“OK,” he faced her, “Say a name and I’ll say what they really were or who really killed them.”

Olivia spoke the first name that came to mind. “Jesse Turner.”

“Child of a demon and a demonically possessed woman,” Dean scratched the back of his head, “Decided to disappear to keep his family safe. God knows where he is now. Hope it’s somewhere warm.”

“Madison Lamb,” Olivia thought of the woman Stabler had mentioned.

Sam stiffened on the bench. Dean answered for him.

“Werewolf. Sammy loved her,” he looked back over his shoulder at his brother before he carried on, “Sex was consensual.”

_I could already guess that,_ Olivia thought to herself. “Milwaukee City Bank.”

“That was a mistake,” Dean mumbled, before replying, “Shapeshifter. Resnick thought it was some kind of android and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You could say that for most of the things we landed in,” Olivia heard Sam mutter, but she chose not to say anything.

“Cindy McClellan.” The nurse with their dead associate.

“Possessed by a demon.”

“Ava Wilson. And the others in Cold Oak.” Olivia sat down next to Dean, in some small attempt at comforting him as she listened.

“Ava, Andy and Lily were all psychics. All died at the same time, too. Never met Lily, but Sam says that she could stop people’s hearts by touching them.” Olivia’s eyebrows flew up. “Ava had visions of the future, Andy was telepathic.”

“Who did they die?”

“Ava killed Andy,” Sam was staring up at the ceiling again, “She’d been held in Cold Oak for five months and went psycho.”

Olivia could understand that all too well. “And Ava –“

“Killed by someone else,” Sam replied, “he died after opening the Devil’s Gate. You won’t find him; he was taken from Afghanistan.”

Olivia’s eyes flicked back to Dean. This was going to be a hard question, but somehow she felt as if she needed to be prepared anyway. “And Henriksen?”

Dean didn’t move for a few seconds. Then he sighed.

“Henriksen – he and the others helped to defend us against a demon army. We left, thought they were safe. Then Lilith comes and blows them all to Hell.”

Olivia knew that by saying this Dean had lifted a huge weight from his shoulders. And there was some small element of closure as well for her. Olivia had worried about the massacre of a whole police station, both before and after learning what the Winchesters really did.

But now she knew and she might be more prepared for if such a time would ever come.

Nicky stood in the street outside the precinct. Smiling to herself, her hands clasped together in front of her chest, Nicky knew that she had reached the final phase of her plan.

Ignore stupid Caroline and whatever she wanted with the Amazons. No, Nicky had grown tired of them. What did she care if the Amazons didn’t kill their fathers? She was here for one thing and one thing only.

Her revenge.

When Castiel had taken Sam back to his cell and Olivia back to the precinct, someone hammered on the door of Dean’s cell.

“Phone call!” a gruff voice came from the other side. This was followed by, “An officer from SVU wants to see you. Can’t think why.”

Olivia watched as Dean stood in the phone booth behind several layers of glass. Sitting down on the other side of the hunter made her uncomfortable. She felt helpless.

And helpless was not something a police officer should ever feel.

“Hi,” she heard Dean give out a short laugh as he twisted the phone cord in his fingers, “Yeah, I’m sorry that’s how Cas woke you up, but err – we need a bit of help.”

A pause. “OK,” Dean sounded dismayed, “You sure about that? I mean, if you want us in FBI custody, you can just send someone up here. You have to be invited in?” Dean muttered something under his breath, before he stood up straight. “No, no, I – I understand. Well, Cas has a lock on the both of us just in case our friends here can’t save us. Thanks anyway.”

Dean walked over to Olivia, sighing as he sat down at the chair behind the glass. Picking up the receiver, he spoke into it as Olivia placed the other end by her ear.

“I think Cas is going to break us out tonight,” Dean informed her, “We just need someone to release the Impala.”

“I can do that,” Olivia answered back, “But we still have the Amazon problem.”

“Yeah,” Dean groaned, “And we need to get out of New York as soon as we can. The guards all have their eyes on us.”

Before Olivia could say anything, she heard the sound of dogs barking outside of the door. Turning around in her seat to take a closer look, she saw the doors open wide.

But nothing was there.

Dean stood up on his chair, the phone cord stretched as far as it could while still in his hand. “Hellhounds.”

Olivia couldn’t see anything. But she could definitely hear the sounds of dogs growling. Her eyes flicked around the room, waiting for something to fall over. For something to tell her where they were.

But she only heard the growls.

Dean had gotten down from his chair and started banging on the door, calling for the guard. He was desperate. He didn’t want the hellhounds to hurt the Sergeant. If they were even after her. More than likely they were they were after him.

“You won’t get any help,” they heard Nicky laughing as she strode into the room, smirking at the two of them, still in the same outfit she had worn in court, “The doggies had the guards for dinner.”

“You sick son of a –“ Dean started to shout back, clambering at the glass, but Nicky held a finger up.

“Now, Dean,” she teased, “Mind your manners.”

She crossed her arms, still smiling to herself as she did so, and the carpet started to dip either side of her.

“I needed a little bit of help in carrying out the final phase of my plan.”

Dean glared at her. “Having everyone think we’re raging psychopaths and sending us to the electric chair wasn’t good enough for you?”

Nicky faced Olivia. “The hellhounds are going to rip your police friends apart.”

“See?” Dean argued, “You don’t think your plans through! First the wedding, now this. If I’m behind bars, they’ll never believe I killed them!”

The door on Dean’s side gave a creak and then pushed open, sending him to the floor. Nicky silently raised an eyebrow at him. She pulled out a bloodied knife from behind her back and threw it onto the row of cushioned seats behind her.

Looking at Olivia, the witch gave a small chortle and held her fingers to her lips when she saw the officer’s gun. “I doubt that you’ll be able to fire before the hellhounds rip you to shreds.”

Olivia still kept her eyes on Nicky. She knew that she would be useless against these invisible hounds, but her chances were slightly better concerning Nicky. Although Olivia felt that she still would have better luck trying to kiss Elliot.

As if the witch could read her mind – could she, Olivia wondered – she opened her big mouth open.

“Your partner was irresistible, Sergeant. I was keeping an eye on the boys from afar when your friend visited. I didn’t even have to do much; I just increased his rage.”

“You –“ Olivia could hardly believe it, but ever since meeting the Winchesters she knew that not everything had a rational explanation and she already knew that nothing was ever as it seemed, “You put a spell on my partner?”

Nicky shrugged. “No different from the one he thinks you put on him.” She smiled.

“That’s it,” Olivia grumbled to herself, daring to step forward just a tiny bit, “You asked for it, witch.”

Before Olivia could go any further, there were footsteps at the end of the hallway. Although she couldn’t see them from this angle, Dean noticed that Rollins and Carisi were out there. If Nicky had heard – and she may have been too focused on Dean and Olivia – she didn’t react.

“You see, Dean,” Nicky walked closer to the glass, resting her elbow on the wooden panel, “you and your precious brother ruined my life. You ruined my sisters’ lives. So I only think it’s fair that I ruin both of your lives.”

“You never think anything through,” Dean gave a small chuckle, folding his arms as he stood inches from her, “And didn’t you hate your sisters?”

Olivia glanced towards the door, where Rollins and Carisi were standing. The two of them immediately crouched behind the row of chairs and made their way over.

“What now?” Carisi whispered.

“Watch out for the hellhounds,” Olivia whispered back.

Carisi looked about, but the only sign of any dogs to be found were the soft growls and where something was digging into the carpet.

“Great,” he murmured, “What now?”

Roillins’ eyes widened as she thought. “The knife. Bullets might hit the right arteries. But a knife…”

“Can you get close enough?” Olivia asked, her gun still aimed at the witch just in case.

“I’ll try,” Rollins tried to reassure her fellow officers, but she was trembling inside. Memories of last time were at the front of her mind.

Not this time.

“I still wanted to move up in the world,” Nicky sneered at Dean, ignorant to what was going on behind her, “Couldn’t I at least try?”

Dean, still smiling cockily, answered, “No.”

Then his eyes flicked away from her. Nicky slowly spun around, to see Rollins just a few feet away. The witch barely had time to react before the knife was shoved into her heart. She slumped to the floor, sprawling out as she desperately tried to think of some magic – any magic – that could stop this.

But she couldn’t, therefore bleeding out.

The hellhounds started barking furiously, before they turned tail and fled. The woman who had given them orders was gone.

It was a pity that not one of those orders was to protect her.

Nicky’s arrogance had led to her own demise.

Olivia was back at the precinct at lunchtime.

The Amazons were still locked away. All of them appeared bored rather than angry or tired. Olivia wondered what she was supposed to do with them. She definitely didn’t know what to do with Claudia.

The brothers were discussing the situation with Castiel in her office. They had been in there for almost an hour. She was walking down the hallway, about to ask if they wanted any coffee, when she heard Dean shouting through the wall.

“We’re not sending six girls to North Dakota!”

Clearly they hadn’t found a solution yet.

She knocked softly on the door. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” she heard Dean answer. When Olivia opened the door, she found Dean sitting at her desk, head in his hands, frustrated. Sam was sitting on one of the chairs opposite. Castiel stood beside Dean, staring down at him. Olivia thought that she saw concern, but brushed it out of her mind as she didn’t even know if the angel even felt emotion.

Claudia was still handcuffed to another chair, now wedged in the corner. She glared at Olivia, her hair falling over her face. God, she looked like Barba when she frowned.

“Any ideas?” Olivia knew they didn’t, but it seemed to be the right thing to ask.

Dean sighed, making eye contact. “No. Not a damn thing.”

He turned towards Castiel. “And feathers here wants them locked away. Preferably in Purgatory.”

“The thing is,” Sam faced Olivia, “none of the younger Amazons have actually killed anyone. But even if we set them free, people will notice that they age far quicker than regular humans.”

“So we need somewhere isolated,” Dean grumbled, “Do you have any donuts lying around, Sergeant?”

Olivia had known from the start that the Amazons would prove to be a problem once they had caught them all. In addition to this, she needed to think fast; the dead guards would be found soon. With yet another Winchester escape, she needed these three out of the way.

“May _I_ suggest a solution?” Claudia’s voice made them all turn. She grinned back at them, one eyebrow raised.

“No.” Dean replied bluntly. But Olivia held a hand up, still facing the Amazon.

“Go on, Claudia.” Olivia was ready to listen.

Claudia shrugged, or as best she could still handcuffed. “There are a lot of abandoned places in the world, aren’t there? Places large enough for us to – what was it that Officer Rollins said again? Ah, yes; somewhere to hunt and run around in all day. Well,” she shuffled in her seat, “surely you can find something like that in New York State or New Jersey. Amusement parks, zoos, nature reserves, somewhere like that.”

Olivia thought about it for a moment. Then she folded her arms and told her, “I think we can compromise.”

Claudia put her head to one side, still smiling. “Great. Now, can I please go to the bathroom? I’ve been waiting for three hours.”

The decision had been made. The ten Amazons in the cages were going to a former summer camp on Long Island. They weren’t given the exact coordinates just in case they tried to escape.

“It’s going to be lovely,” Rollins had told them as they had all trooped, miserable and cuffed onto the prison bus with tinted windows, “Fresh air, trees, a lake, wide open spaces –“ She turned to Olivia.

“Just like the ones I wish I had gone to as a child.”

Kimberley stopped in her tracks and scowled at Rollins. The officer just smiled back as Carisi pushed the Amazon up the steps.

Ava, who was just behind her mother, also looked at Rollins. The left corner of her lip curled, but she didn’t speak.

When all ten Amazons were on board, Fin, sat the wheel, turned around in his seat. Ten angry faces glared back.

“Well ladies, get ready for the first day of the rest of your short lives,” Fin pulled the lever into drive.

“Bite me,” Delilah sneered.

As the rest of the team watched the bus draw away, Olivia turned about to see more cars enter the parking lot.

“Oh, no,” she sighed, “They want the Winchesters.”

And indeed the New York chief of police wanted to question their conduct.

Luckily for Olivia, the brothers had left an hour ago.

Olivia had said goodbye in the office. Claudia had been taken down to the holding cells and Olivia had just handed Dean his car keys.

“I missed Baby,” Dean said under his breath. Olivia chose to ignore him.

“You will be careful, won’t you?” she asked, worried.

“We will,” Sam tried to reassure her, “We’ve been hunters all our lives.”

Dean on the other hand appeared conflicted. “What is it?” Olivia asked him.

“We – we seem to cause trouble for cops and feds everywhere we go,” he mumbled, “Baltimore, Agent Henriksen, Quantico…you lot.” He sighed. “You know, our contact at Quantico, when Cas woke him up by talking to him in the dark –“ he glowered over his shoulder at the angel, “while they were hunting a bad guy who breaks into people’s houses –“

“Is this the privacy thing?” Castiel tilted his head to one side. Dean simply rolled his eyes and carried on.

“As I was saying, Sergeant Benson, he – told Cas that he’s been troubled lately. He salted and burned a grave. He was this close to calling us last April because he thought a monster was making people kill. Turns out it was some weirdo causing hallucinations. Monsters I can understand. People I never can understand.

“The point is, Sergeant, whenever we tell someone about the supernatural – that the monsters under your bed actually exist – I keep feeling as if we’ve destroyed someone’s life. Even if we haven’t.”

Olivia nodded. “I understand, Dean. No, we’ll be fine.”

“Your former partner wasn’t,” Dean snorted, “Nicky really did a number on him.”

Olivia was about to reply when Sam had stood up from his chair. “I think we’d better go now.”

“See you around, Sergeant,” Dean waved at Olivia. Sam had flashed Olivia a quick smile. Castiel had only stared into her eyes and gave a quick nod.

Then the angel had touched both of the brothers by the shoulders and the three of them had disappeared from her office.

At home that night, Olivia sat with her seat on the couch. Noah was in bed and she was worn out both physically and mentally.

There had been more questions about the brothers’ latest escape. Olivia had handed over the CCTV that had been focused on the doors to show that neither brother had entered or exited the building through those doors. Which was the truth, naturally.

The best that the police chief had come up with was that the brothers had friends on the outside. The mysterious ‘cult’, perhaps.

Yet again the newspapers had a field day. But it wasn’t them that Olivia felt irritated by.

It was what Dean had said about Elliot. What Nicky had done to Elliot. What she had said about Elliot.

Almost as if it were fate – and who knew – the phone rang. Olivia leaned over and picked up the receiver.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Liv?”

Elliot.

“El,” she sat up, “I wasn’t –“

“I know, Liv,” he sighed, “Can you – can you explain what happened at the precinct today? Why everyone keeps saying –“

Olivia cut him off. “Where do you want me to start?”

**Three Months Later**

Munch sat the table in the interrogation room. It had been a long time since he had been down here. But, he told himself, this time he was here as someone other than a cop. A friend. A source of support.

When she came in, the Amazon glared at him. Wearing a bright orange jumpsuit, Claudia sat glumly in her seat, her hair in front of her eyes.

“Yes?” she snarled.

Munch sat up, folding his arms. “Claudia, is it?”

She snorted.

“Rafael Barba’s daughter?”

“Yes,” she replied, just as snappily as before.

“I’m John Munch. I used to be a detective here,” he explained, “But I’m a hunter now.”

“A hunter?” Claudia was both impressed and frustrated. But that came from her genetic hatred of humans.

A feeling that she had been told over the past three months to let go of. Sure enough, she had softened towards humans. Mainly the Sergeant and Officer Rollins, since they were the ones that came down to see her. Claudia was still a little distrustful of human men, though.

“Claudia,” Munch told her, “what if I said that I’d spoken to Benson and Rollins? That I could get you out of here. That we could try and find monsters all over the city.” He paused. “You hate your mother, don’t you? For abandoning you when you were arrested. Think how much fury the Amazons would have if they knew that one of their own was a hunter? And living with one.”

Claudia’s head shot up. She gave a small chuckle. “My lifespan is about twelve years. I’ll be old in nine.”

Munch shrugged. “You’ll have caught up with me by then.”

The Amazon mused it over. Then her face slowly grew into a smile as she nodded. “I will.”

Then Munch said, “Might have to wait a while before going into the field together, though. People will ask why I’m with a fifteen-year-old girl.”

“Sixteen,” Claudia informed him, “We age five times as quickly, so I’m sixteen now.”

Munch smiled. “Well, Claudia, it’s a deal. I think you’ll be a good hunter.”

_Just like Dean said I would be,_ Munch told himself.

The two of them walked out of the door, the Devil’s Trap still drawn onto the back.

Maybe that was fitting, the old detective thought, that he was leaving behind his old police life for one with the supernatural.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for adding the last chapter after almost a month. I have been unbelievably busy and stressed, which is why this chapter might seem a little rushed in places. I didn't want to disappoint all of the avid readers out there who enjoyed this story so far.
> 
> As I stated in an earlier chapter, due to the current social and political climate, it was probably a good idea that _Supernatural_ and _Criminal Minds_ ended or are ending in 2020. We are entering another Great Depression and at present, reading fanfiction seems to be the only way of receiving any enjoyment from our favourite shows.
> 
> I also tend not to walk on eggshells; if I think something is a problem then I say so, providing a rational explanation as to why something is wrong instead of anything that could be perceived as irrational fear. This is why I like the casts of these two shows so much; they are no-nonsense and get straight to the point, treating everyone the same whether they are suspects or not. In some cases (Unsub preferences aside), the gender and race of a one-shot or recurring character are not even mentioned, which is what I think makes a good show. Follow the example set by _The Magic School Bus_ ; the best way to be equal is by _not_ using positive discrimination or mentioning how a character looks different.
> 
> I am so sorry for that rant. I just wanted to get it out there. I just want the shows in the 2020s to be slightly different than those in the last ten to fifteen years. And with the social and political climates this year (in America and Western Europe at least) being almost unlike anything in living memory, it will be very interesting to see how shows like _Law & Order_ will react.
> 
> In any case, I hope that you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.


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